I love stories that experiment with the form in which they’re told, such as letters, documents, and, as in the case below, instructions. The latter are especially interesting to me because the outcome depends on how faithfully our characters follow the instructions (or, when desperate, modify them by exploiting loopholes). The more detailed the instructions, the more things can go wrong, which raises the stakes for the protagonists (but is extremely enjoyable for us readers). Consider the following…
“A Guide on How to Meet the Deity of Many Faces” by Oyedotun Damilola Muees
In Hindi we say that “Dhoondhne se to bhagwan bhi mil jaate hain” —meaning, if you make the effort to look, you’ll find God too. It’s a reminder to keep trying and be persistent, since nothing is out of reach. However, if it is the Deity of Many Faces that you seek—to obtain wealth, health, or a child—your resilience will be put to the test. You’ll require the right tools, you must take the correct paths while ignoring the many traps of various spirits, and follow the given steps in the right order, which, hopefully, should be all you need to achieve your goal…assuming you’re not overlooking anything crucial…
“Guidelines for Using the Harry Elkins Widener Memorial Library” by Marie Brennan
Libraries are perhaps one of the safest spaces to let yourself wander happily without a plan— except when you’re in the Harry Elkins Widener Memorial Library. Watch where you step, and which direction you go in when moving from floor to floor—the wrong moves can take you to unpleasant places. You must also be careful when trying to placate any hostile guardians, and avoid stepping into any occupied elevators (particularly if you’re invited), at least according to the current guidelines. If you find that you’ve suddenly time-travelled to some other year, make sure you consult the correct past or future edition of the rules if you want to return home safely.
“Guidelines for Appeasing Kim of the Hundred Hands” by John Wiswell
Kim of the Hundred Hands takes care of the university students, provided you make her the right kind of offerings. Fruits and chocolate are a good bet, but it’s best to avoid meat, especially after the Leonard Knavs incident. Do not talk about it, do not try to repeat it, and definitely do not think you can get ahead by cheating, trickery, or putting someone else in harm’s way. Kim of the Hundred Hands would not be pleased.
“Ten Lessons for a Curse-Breaker” by Ellen Meny
You try very hard to use magic to fix generational trauma. You’ve been warned that it won’t work, but you’re determined. You end up making a mess—but then an unexpected “solution” shows up that just might work, actually…
Meny’s little story has a surprise ending that, depending on what kind of person you are, you’ll find weird, or funny, or both.
“How to Safely Store Your Magical Artifacts After Saving the World” by Tina Connolly
When you’re young, the idea of saving the world sounds glorious, but when you grow up, you understand its true costs, which you might be paying for the rest of your life. Being surrounded by the weapons, potions, scrolls and other magical objects that played a part in that journey can remind you of both your triumphs and your pain. But among the clutter is a book, one which always opens to the page you need, which is now giving you the advice you need to make peace with the past and deal with the present, to stow these magical artifacts and rest until you (and they) are needed in the future.
You’ve missed one of my favourites, “Instructions” by Bob Leman.
One along these lines that cracks me up is Pat Cadigan’s “50 Ways to Improve Your Orgasm”, which might not be quite what it says it’s about – or as Cadigan put it when asked about the efficacy of the story’s suggestions, “Your mileage may vary.”
For some reason the last three sentences in the Connolly piece really spoke to me …
There’s a short Star Trek profic, whose identifying information escapes me, which is written as the instructions Nurse Chapel issues to herself as she gets through a day shortly after the incident with the plomeek soup, on a ship where absolutely everybody knows anything that happens in the common areas, such as the corridors or any crew cabin whose door happens to be open. I remember that the brisk, determined internal voice of the fic ends with, “Cry only in the shower.”
These stories remind me of The Steps of the Prophet by Charlie Dart, a game whose instructions are presented as an epistolary short story. Stories as instructions, instructions as stories.