Stories
Fiction & Micro-FictionCloth
Eifan withdraws his hand, shaking his head. “No,” he says. “This is neither the time nor the place to delve into such remembrances.” He reaches instead into the satchel slung at his side, rummaging through it and producing a small piece of dark, finely woven cloth...
The Orb
He inspects the orb without picking it up. He can feel the memories radiating off the thing already, and he is not ready to delve into them just yet. Unlike nearly everything else in the room, not one mote of dust rests on the orb’s surface. What’s more, a ring about...
Shriek
She accosted him on the sidewalk, as he was loading the last of his gear into the truck. He had just come from a client’s house, the last job of the day. He was loading his backpack sprayer when she slammed into him, nearly knocking him off his feet. She was...
Accusations
She leans against the sink and stares at the message scrawled in the dust on the mirror. Thank god it’s just dust this time, and not blood. Her arms and thighs are criss-crossed with the scissored scars of past blood-lettings. She breathes deeply, heavily, though...
Heartstone
It is a wondrous thing to hear your child’s heart beat for the first time. All those long hours of laboring and toiling over a workbench, all those days and weeks of tenderly, gingerly nudging gears and springs and cogs into place. All those blisters and burns and...
The Shelter
The shelter calls out to Eifan, and he is drawn toward it. A cool breeze blows in off the sea and with it a hint of a voice, as if a vapor. Almost that voice entices him away from his explorations, but he impatiently shrugs it off. There is mystery in that shelter,...
Shadow Man
I saw a shadow man today, tracking me through the corn. It kept its distance, for which I was grateful, but it moved when I moved, stepped where I stepped, stumbled when I stumbled. It stayed with me for some time before I stopped and turned to face it. Hey, there,...
Godshaker
The table in front of Traxis is littered with little bits and parts, spare pieces collected from weapons gathered up over the long years of roaming in the wilds, all pre-City. The weapons themselves are long gone, many damaged beyond repair during the heat of one...
The Guardian and the Archive
The sun rises above the Enceladean horizon, and the small moon’s icy surface immediately begins to sublimate. Wisps of vapor rise and dance, looking for all the world like tendrils of delicate smoke. The vapor coils and writhes and is carried through the thin...