“What a delicious meal we have made, full of things and places. A bevy of reality spread forth on our plate, salivating those who can process, stomach, digest the unfathomable. Continue reading
Amidst the violence, when the shady deals were just being struck, and the drugs hitting streams of blood at the rate of a brain burst, he plugged in his instrument and warmed up his other physical one. The microphone crackled against his breath, and he sang a few languid notes. Continue reading
“That wasn’t chicken,” she said, standing behind him as he washed off the plate. The remnants of meat slid away, to be caught in the drain cover.
“Uh…what?” he said. “Then what was it?”
“I don’t know.” Continue reading
It came to this, as it always did, as the screaming of the choirs heralded. They’d been chasing her for the past week, ruining her life one life taken at a time. She was sick of her journey as a hero; she was sick of being beaten by fate itself and taken along on this trip without her consent.
She was sick of it, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore. Continue reading
He had his hand against his cheek, and his eyes looked tired—even with the candlelight in them.
“So,” she began, and he held up his hand.
He had this odd, multi-band ring.
“No, none of that. Be more open, would you?” Continue reading
He sat, dead-eyed, with his hand on his chin. “I know.”
And, with those two words, she sputtered. “How…?”
He smiled at her and leaned back in his chair. She could not say for sure, but something seemed to move behind him—something huge.
“I know things, not to worry,” he replied.
“I’m worried,” she said. “This is a secret. I can’t have it getting out.” Continue reading
Hope floated over her and wished that she could just tell her. Wished she could manifest and regale her with all the new things that would happen. All the beauty and joy.
But, there Karen was, for now, crying in a shopping center. Hiding in the changing room with no interest in putting on the swimsuit that she had taken from the racks. Trying to not make too much sound even as her heart broke at the seams and into so many pieces. Continue reading
“Nah, dude, it’s wicked.”
“I don’t know, man. It sounds very sketch to me.”
“Dude, dude, I can see through clothing. I can listen to a conversation a hundred feet away from me. It’s wicked.”
“You keep using that old, old slang, dude.”
“It’s the right word for it. I am not myself—I am better than myself. I am so much more than a person—a human—could have been in any time before now. That is incredible, by itself, dude.”
“You keep saying that it makes you so special. Explain that shit to me.” Continue reading
“I mean, play along. How many was that?”
Brian put the white ceramic mug to his lips and sucked down more of the cheap coffee. His sister watched him for a moment, then rolled her eyes.
“It’s four, right?” she asked.
Brian flicked out his finger. “Ding, ding.” Continue reading
“Why must I be the evil one?”
The being of pure light looked at me. I had been converted first to human form. My armor was black, and my sword was on fire—and I hated it.
“Because someone needs to be,” the being said, then slowly formed into a person. Nose and ears and such coming in slowly. “I am sorry though—but that’s the way it’s got to be.”
“Why?” Continue reading
The children asked for the story. They sat in a circle around the old man, who squinted at the massive pictures as if they were the smallest of symbols. His voice came out shaky—he’d been a smoker—and without much volume, but the children stared in rapt attention.
They did not need exactly to hear it. They all knew the story well enough. They could all recite it, really, if it came to such a thing. Continue reading
A book’s spine is not meant to hit a wall, but, there it slid down, coming to a forlorn, bent-out-of-shape slump on the ground.
Samantha crossed her hands over her chest and pouted. She’d been enjoying that book, loving the characters, the concepts, where it was going—but now…
A quick darting motion brought her phone up to use, as it had been an hour before, and her text sent at the speed of technology.
That was horrible. Continue reading
Every word spoken, added to the physical mass. Charlie oversaw words and made sure that no one overused them. Words were precious, you see: a commodity that no one could do much without, yet paradoxically must not speak too often. They powered lights and made the cars run on time. If not for words, likely they would all be dead.
But then came a stranger into the town, who spoke freely, and with words they’d never heard before. Charlie grew worried about him but had no significant reason to remove him, he was but one man, and a kind enough sort at that.
But, yes, later, there was something wrong, there was something off. He used a swear. No one had ever heard it before—and it brought forth chaos. Continue reading
“It would be nice to take it all back, don’t you think?” she mused at the stone figure of a woman in a slip-on dress. “I mean—I didn’t quite mean for it to go so far.”
She swiveled her head toward a man with his face in a perpetual scream.
“And, you, I really did not mean for you to die. I was trying to be careful.” Continue reading
Along the rim, they walked, and Charles became worried about his stability. His feet were not working well, and not landing well, and not going in the exact way he would have wanted them to do so.
Sasha walked alongside him and did not seem to notice his little stutters of motion. She simply handed him another drink, something she brought with her, and he took a sip of it. It wasn’t alcohol; it tasted like water. Continue reading