Asteroid
The ship moves with grace, its poofs of burning gas nudge us in, and settles on the landing pad with an imperceptible bump. We feel more than hear a great rushing of air through it's metal skin.
The ship moves with grace, its poofs of burning gas nudge us in, and settles on the landing pad with an imperceptible bump. We feel more than hear a great rushing of air through it's metal skin.
After a moon had passed, none of us could rise from our furs, weakened by my grandfathers curse. We watched helpless as another one of the children succumbed to the wasting of the curse, and I vowed it was the last.
Lack of food during our long hunt for the cave must have weakened us, for even the womenfolk were capable of faster digging than the hunting party. Our newcomers brought the last of the village’s food with them, the winter stores of dried venison and hard bread
The approaching thunder warned us of the coming apocalypse. Long shadows cast across the mountains of a rugged range. Peaks worn and weathered by the stains of time. Echoes of past memories, imprinted through the ever-changing landscape. Tents of our forefathers, falling down around our ears.
We’d sit, working out, playing games, smoking, just to ease the boredom, and then boom: the red light would flash, the siren would sound, and we’d rush out to the latest inter-dimensional transportation disaster.
He sits, and watches, drinking, the gun sits heavy on his hip, its dark wooden handle rubbed to a polish by the hands of lawmen and murderers alike. His eyes rove around the dimly lit bar, as a wordless tune warbles from half-blown speakers overhead, fuzzing and hissing with every drum beat.
I grip my knees until the bones creak. Deep heaving breaths, trying to calm down. Bad idea. I cough and spit granules of sand spitefully back onto the ground, adding my precious water to replenish the torched oasis, can’t wash the horror away. Who would murder a whole village?
He flips display lenses down over his goggles, a praying mantis, and adjusts his one-handed claw grip on the controller. Schmidt stands next to him, covering with his rifle. The high-pitched whine of tiny electric motors pierce through the wind whipping against our ears as the drone takes flight.
The scorching heat of the desert wind blows fiercely over the sand, piling and sculpting it, building tiny rivulets into mighty dunes that tower over us, flying between them, we speed toward the drop zone.
They chained him to the aft railing as the sun beat down on his sandy, unwashed hair. The sails above hung limp above, the only movement from crew and the ship itself as it listed, gently, port and aft, on this becalmed Wednesday, the fifth in a row. The captain
Life has been busy since November and I haven't had as much time to dedicate to writing as I'd like. A sixty day sabbatical, except with stress and life events, instead of unwinding and recharging. Same thing, right? Right? The holidays will continue to be crazy busy, so I'm taking
“It touched me, it touched me, and they washed me clean.” The girl sits, long brown hair covering her face, rocking back and forth, on a sea foam floor, chin on her knees, such an ugly colour, pulled up close to her chest, rocking back and forth. “It touched me,
The mirrors that surround the altar amplify the flickering light of the candles as they sway from chains wrapped around wrinkled hands. Robes and chanting, swaying and muttering, everything flickers, the sound, the lights.
Life was good, Jack thought, as he stepped through the hatch of the bar, and out into the kaleidoscopic light of the promenade. Above him, the neon signs were flashing, advertising the stations' entertainment, adding to the dull buzzing in his head. “GIRLS, BOYS, THRILLS!”, they proudly exclaim in hot-pinks
I was falling again, like before, this time landing in a body of water. An ocean? A river? I had no way to tell. Not this again, not this nightmare. Not falling and landing, not the falling and crashing. Falling and then the tentacle; preordained. As if summoned by my
I drove the slender spike into his brain, up through the eye socket and deep into the grey matter. Making sure to wiggle, stir it around a little, didn't want forensics recovering anything, especially these days. The kid should've listened when I told him this was a bad idea. I'd
She was there when he woke, just like he knew she’d be. Leaning over him, like she’d done a million times before in half-remembered dreams. She was so beautiful, easing the needles out of his veins, checking his vitals, making sure he was okay. A frown on her
The banshee shrieks of the beast above tore Rick from his feverish nightmares, reality snapping into focus as a finger of dread touched his heart; what new phantasms erupted into this wretched hell? The leathery flapping wings pushed down the stagnant, fetid breath of the creature. Instinctively, he rolled back
Tabitha trudged through the sandy desert under the cool moonlight, shivering as the wind rose; whipping the sand into little tornadoes and chilling her to the bone. Sun and moon traded places in the sky with no interval she could discern. The night felt calmer, almost benevolent. The day, with
The pain was a constant in Jane's life. Womanly pains, childbirth pains, man pains, the pain of cleaning, the pain of cooking. Oh, god, her life was so boring. She was turning into her mother, that bitch of a drama queen. Nothing would make her mother happier. She may as
She jumps from the moving train, not waiting for it to slow, her only thought; getting there in time to save him. Her skirt flies above her knees as she runs recklessly, off the platform, down the stairs, through the tunnel leading to sunlight. Blinking in the sudden brightness, she
Swept up in the whirlwind of my insanity I picture gravity It draws me And I it The swirling continuum of our masses Colliding gradually Shattered tragedy Bird of flight Taken down into my night So I swim And in so doing Cross the patterns Waves that make existence Troubled
When we kiss I taste your sorrow. Your sadness gladdens my heart, staunches my wounds. The desecration of your soul bathes me in beauty; I can finally see the wonder in something broken. A shattered figurine upon the ground. The leavings, pieces of you torn asunder, rent from the fibre
I wake to a sharp spike of pain as a fist deforms my solar plexus. A face swaying in and out of focus as I look out through tears and bruised eyes. The gleeful face of a man stares back at me, handsome features lurk under sagging flesh, mouth twisted
Not this again, not these hallucinations. He couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming. It had been at least fifteen days since he’d let himself drift to sleep. Not wanting his demons to sneak in and steal a little more of his sanity. He couldn’t keep
The air rushed past my face, exhilarating, loud in my ears. The travel posters were right, “See the view!” they said, and the view was incredible. You could see for miles from up here. Well, I was seeing less and less the more time flickered by. Rushing by, time, the
Tuesday was the first day Jack finally felt alone. He wept silently to himself as the drugs kicked in, riding the euphoria as it surged through his blood. Hiding the pain of his existence underneath the soothing fog of the hit. His stash was enough to go for a week
The hunger gnaws at his gut, a coiling monster within, wearing away his will to fight. Sapping his strength, reducing him to a weak and feeble creature. A lowly worm, almost unaware of higher vertebrate. Spineless, pitiful, unable to lift himself off the floor of his cell. They’d left
I walked through fog like a drowning cat, each step an agonizing dance of pain, instead of the rats that sputtered their last breaths on the diseased streets I fought back and stood tall in the miasma of death.
The fog rolls in, slowly at first, enveloping and wrapping around the street corners, where the ladies of the night ply their trade. The quiet sounds of the tousled leaves as the wind sighs into the night. Alluring. The fog begins to thicken, tendrils now reaching out, reaching towards the
Chasing and running, its all he had left. Run, stop, pass out, leaning on what passed for trees in this cursed place, wake a moment later and run again. These fleeting moments of rest were the only thing keeping him from certain death the claws and teeth of those who
A soft tapping, the gentle sound of flesh hitting flesh. I look across the couch, an unwashed, unkempt face stares back at me. Tapping on his arm with a grimy finger, trying to find a vein. I can smell him from here, not that I can take the high ground,
And so with no ceremony and even less fanfare, I begin my blog. A trumpet sound flubs out like a wet fart, staining the blank page of an imagined typewriter and daring the author to tarnish it further. Well, there... I did. Black smudges on white crystals, spinning electrons energizing