Private Thoughts

The young boy stared. He sat three or four pews ahead, towards the middle of the church. He was dressed in black and up until that moment had bowed his head when needed, sang songs or listed otherwise. He hadn’t done anything he shouldn’t until the centaur arrived. The half-man, half-horse dipped

Robert Wars

The hallway stank of forgotten lunches and misery. At one end stood a tyrant, a young boy. He carved a drawing into a wall, his tool a box cutter. It was a terrible self-portrait. The cheeks were too chubby and the eyes lacked the hint of madness. Nearby smoldering plastic shoes burned,

Winner Takes All

“Hey, old man,” called out Ross. Ross had been bragging that he’d managed to make a hundred dollars from bare knuckle fighting. Imagine that! People paying good money for what most sponges give away for free. A hundred dollars for beer and sometimes spirits from the dock workers when merchant boats came

Alien Invasion, Checkmate!

June 23, 2061. In those first few days, when humanity sprinted out of the shadows, there had been a kind of spiritual awakening. Some hunger, buried deep inside the soul, had finally stirred. People were eager to try something new. By all accounts, The Last War had been a grubby little affair.

Goddess of the Celestial Planes

Artemis couldn’t get comfortable. The ivy itched, the night air was too cold, and a friendly beetle wasn’t taking the hint. Something promised to be easy was turning out to be hard. Artemis closed his eyes. Three, two, one, then looked around. Nothing had changed, except now the beetle had brought friends.

Nap Time

Most of the time, the machines hiss and wheeze like my old man smoking his way through yet another pack. Even in my dreams they were are never far away. I remember this dream once of duelling seagulls, one hissing, the other wheezing with pumped-up gusto, as they bowed, hopped ten paces,

Good Intentions

Everything I’ve ever said a lie, except those bits which were extremely true. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, my intentions. Not figurative Hell, not small-h hell, that part is a lie for children. Proper Hell, the Hell of the Bible, the Hell where Beats lie in wait for

Alpha and Omega

In the beginning there was Zero, and then there was the word, and the word was, “Let there be One”. And with the word, the twin digital Gods, Alpha and Omega stepped forth from the electronic ocean of circuit boards and copper wire and looked upon the world, like newborns. In the

Bad Boy Zombie

From the way his black curly hair waved in the soft breeze, overflowing the top of his worn leather jacket; from the way the light reflected from his designer sunglasses, hiding eyes that hinted of exclusive clubs and $30 martinis; from the way his rotting flesh hang limply from his manly bones,

Me, Myself, and I

I was a real man, of sorts, with scars tapering down from cheek to chin, and eyes of unpredictable intent. Dressed like an actor from one of those western flicks, maybe a cowboy, I-that-was-him snapped a rusty pocket knife open and closed – a nervous tick for a calm man – as

Good Day to Die

He didn’t know it yet, but Philip C. Carmichael was going to die. There he would be, sitting on the couch, in the dark, in a thunderstorm, on Friday the 13th, devouring a chicken drumstick one moment, choking on a doughnut with the next. Only to be discovered, weeks later, by paramedics,