Science Fiction
The Old Television Studio, Chapter Three
Luminous fragments of a bygone Nottingham still ringing with the forces that had rendered its genesis flew in the darkness of that cavernous chamber, speeding to a vanishing-point far off whence emitted the summons which had taken hold of Jenny’s every sense. She saw old stone building-frontages ruddy with sunset beneath panoramas of fire-splashed cloud, and there were glowing pine-forests too, rolling on either side of the road while overhead a new night sky scintillated with stars. Here and there a flicker of friendly flame, or the yellow spark of a teleport, even hinted at The Four Heroes as they’d been then.
By Doc Sherwood2 months ago in Chapters
The Old Television Studio, Chapter One
It was a curious quality of the boy next door that Jenny could never picture his face. He looked like one or two different people she knew, between whom she guessed there must already have been a resemblance. Sometimes she was certain she saw brown hair, and eyes that stared too much. At other times however every detail would vanish behind a shrouding mask of twilight, except the eyes. That shadow was before Jenny now as she made her final checks in the hallway.
By Doc Sherwood2 months ago in Chapters
Brass Ring Chapter 9: Bouncing Back From The Pain
Bruno smiled wistfully as he entered the doors of the Loaded Swallow. When he had accepted the position of Assistant Mayor, this had become Paul and his favorite place; it was far enough from the city offices to give him a legitimate break from his duties but close enough that he could run into the offices if the mayor needed a save. The position was perfect for him, especially as he had just retired from being The Corsair. He smelled a Reuben and knew Paul had beaten him here. For once. He smiled.
By Jamais Jochim2 months ago in Chapters
Special Guest, Chapter Two
4-H-N sought the girls’ changing-room and knocked, then on receiving no answer, pushed the door and cautiously went in. Mini-Flash Juniper was undressing so vehemently that 4-H-N was awed, not so much by the passion as the precision of it. Wow, that was power-folding. Divested of her outer clothes, the pale girl was working the creases with deadly directed rage, that the finished tunic slapped upon the bench beside her a flat beige square.
By Doc Sherwood2 months ago in Chapters
