Dreamlike, you know. Harold walked among those stalks of grass and moved them as they whipped at his skin. Dry and somehow sticky—and somehow coating his mind too in that dryness. He was mentally warm, uncomfortable. But he kept going.
Up in front of him, something white and fluttering was there. Something that was the size of a person, but glowing. Pale skin. Bare and nude except for a small patch of fabric across the midriff. Wrapped loosely with jewels.
He should have been embarrassed, or at least aroused—but he was simply drawn forward. Continue reading
Knife into the chest.
“What does it feel like?” she asked, stepping into the stab. Pushing into her husband harder and harder.
“How does what feel?” he asked, his eyes growing darker.
“Do you understand what you did to me?” she asked. Continue reading
An uproar shook the social fabric when the young upstart had challenged the Flame Master to a duel—but that paled in comparison to the reaction when he had fixed the upstart with a haughty glare and nodded in acceptance.
And, by the rules of the Mage Academy, that was enough—that was all that it took.
They set it for twilight. Continue reading
The reporter was more than a little surprised to see the outfit the man was wearing when he opened the door.
It had a lot of wires.
“Hello, hello,” he said. “Please come in.” Continue reading
When they had brought Charlie in, when they had told him they were going to get the information out of him, one way or the other, he had no idea that this was the method they were going to use.
His superiors had trained him to not squeal any information even if they were attacking him in the genitalia. But, this, he had never expected something like this. Continue reading
Mackenzie had her hood pulled down and her eyes stayed hard on the sidewalk. She ran, but cautiously. Avoiding bumping into anyone. She did not want to risk falling over.
Shadows warped and elongated. It was getting dark fast. This was going to hit right now.
She glanced up, but not too far, and spied a bakery. The patrons of the restaurant were peering past her and would for a very long time. She shoulder-checked open the door, even though it was not locked, and ran for the bathroom. Continue reading
What sleep had he got so far? Is it important? So much to do. Is it important at the end of the day how tired a person is?
Faced with it again, and again—and time was warping around him as he did what he could with the time he had and the chemicals that made it all possible to pound more and more words out in the frantic way of the life that he wanted. Continue reading
They walked on the roads, because past midnight, in that sleepy town, no one, not the cops, not the neighbors, would be out and about. Sure, the occasional screen, the occasional person driving along would be there, but, for the most part, the town may as well not have been in existence.
“Is it pretentious if I say—?”
Howard laughed. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“If you have to ask,” Charlie said, “then it is pretentious.” Continue reading
On the stage, decked in small ribbons and garish clothing, stood two men, and they both strummed their guitars with passion and grace. One of them was short and fat, the other tall and thin. A generic pair, to be sure, but one that had played for a very long time, in a lot of places.
The day’s patrons did not seem to like the show, however, as they paid little mind to them, walking along, talking amongst themselves—even as a true master, two in fact, went to work.
Well, most did not like it. Though it would never see publication or media attention, the Royal Child was in enraptured attendance. He was toward the back, pretending to be interested in the fruits his handler would offer to him, but only eating them out of habit. Continue reading
Four of them. Each strong, big, angry. I felt bad for ‘em.
Dental surgery worth a damn wouldn’t be invented for the next few decades. Continue reading
“Millennial, huh? I hate that word.”
“I’m just using the term as shorthand.”
“I get that, but, they’re just people. You know? I hate those terms. Baby boomers. Latchkey kids. All of that. I don’t even know what they call the newest one.”
George stared down his drink and picked it up, only to put it away again. Half-sipped, and mostly unwanted, but drunk all the same. Drunk the drink, and soon enough drunk in the general sense. Continue reading
“That’s the problem, you see,” someone said, and Joseph rose with a start. He glanced around, and it was nothing behind his eyes.
And then, there was.
His lips smacked; eyes appeared glassy and out of focus. He scratched his head and pushed the blanket off himself. In the back of his mind, moving faster than any computer could calculate, images slotted in and linked and sparked with ignited connection.
“I’m… yeah…Joseph” he mumbled and went to the bathroom. Continue reading
Of one thing they were certain: they were not driving themselves that night. On the table was more booze than a man could feasibly drink, more wine than a Grecian of the olden, way olden days, could ingest—and they drank it like water. An alcoholic would have a pain in his liver at the sight.
And they were having a blast. Continue reading
“We are not real living beings, you know,” Caffeine said, then jerked his head to the side, looking at the door to the room.
“Yeah—but it doesn’t much matter. It’s nice being as we are, at least,” Alcohol said, and sat down on his chair. He stared up at the other two and smiled goofily.
“It matters a little bit,” Nicotine said, parting back his ginger hair. “I, for one, like to be flesh.”
“Oh, well…so do I, but that does not mean that we are.” Caffeine’s words came out rushed and flowing—like he had rehearsed it, but not well, and was trying to get them out as fast as possible before he forgot.
Alcohol laughed. “I did not get that at all.” Continue reading
“So, you’re not going to press the button?”
Jim shrugged. “Nope.”
Cathy pursed her lips. She opened her mouth to say something and then did not. She looked at the red button on the table. They’d woken up to it being there in their kitchen.
“But,” Cathy began, “I feel as though we are supposed to do something with it.”
Jim considered the button again, rubbing his chin. He reached out to touch it, finger by finger, then he pulled away. He too felt the odd presence of someone, or perhaps many people, frowning. Continue reading