Sci Fi
"You're Heads," She Says. "You're Tails."
As I peer from the window of the third-story lab in the Bingham Building, I can just see the other guy crossing the rain-slicked cobblestones of the quad. He's hunched over, defeated. In shock, probably. He has no bags, but he's leaving forever. Everything he owns is on his back or in his pockets--a cheap suit, two hundred bucks, and a bus ticket to Topeka.
By Sital baniya4 years ago in Fiction
His 16th Face
“What's going on?” I whispered, startled in the darkness. “I'm holding you,” Christian explained evenly. Though he was familiar, the feeling of his arms around me was not. He lifted me clean off the bed as if I weighed nothing. In the rocking chair, he settled my head into the space between his chin and his shoulder. His breath feathered down my nose to settle on the moist curves of my lips.
By Stephanie Van Orman4 years ago in Fiction
The Cough Conflict (Part 1)
It had been around three years since I’d last seen my friends in person. And tonight, finally, we’d all had our boosters for the latest variant, and the restrictions were ending. Officially, they ended at 19:00 hours. And the bars of the city would actually open their doors to in-person customers.
By James Cartledge4 years ago in Fiction
Chlorophyngernails
As seen in Mammoth, Massachusetts: A Collection of Speculative Folk Fiction (Levellers Press 2023) I watched them all summer—lithe bodies, easy smiles—I would have done anything to learn their secret. Since Tabitha and I had split, I’d been feeling the need to explore, and the Horvath boys sparked more than curiosity in me. The pair of brothers seemed never to tire, they practically jogged up ladders, basked in the sun while we took breaks in the shade. What I would consider hoisting, was lifting to them. Packs of shingles were like boxes of crackers to these two. It was my second summer with Mr. Colby, and I learned being a roofer comes with a great amount of stress. Not that other trades don't, just that roofing brings with it a contention with the elements, namely the sun. That ball of fire is really something else, wreaks havoc on your system. Not these two, they reveled in the light. I run five miles every morning and made varsity wrestling as a freshman, but these guys were another level.
By Jordan J Hall4 years ago in Fiction
Quabbin Bobbers
**First published in The Spectre Review Literary Magazine-Oct. 2021** I know the real reason the Falcon Cam got taken down, and it has nothing to do with the cat, like everybody thinks. Most of us here at the Department of Conservation and Recreation contend the initial livestream was a sound idea. People from all over the globe were checking in regularly on the peregrine falcons that nested near the Visitor’s Center here on the Quabbin Reservoir. The DCR could use a bit of good press, our Division of Water Supply Protection does not get many opportunities to shine. It has been an uphill battle since the inception of the Windsor Dam and subsequent reservoir 80 years ago. A godsend for Boston: finally, a reliable and potable water source. Only snag was-they had to flood the Swift River Valley and the towns of Dana, Enfield, Greenwich, and Prescott to build it. Just 2,700 living inhabitants they kicked out, but more than 10,000 when you count the bodies that were exhumed. Turns out, they didn't get all of them. To be fair, those limbs the falcons were carrying were never under the soil.
By Jordan J Hall4 years ago in Fiction
A Planet Called Earth
by: Dennis R. Humphreys (the Dream Writer) He watched her across the room in a crowded club of people, dancing their way through the evening in an effort to forget the long week of work. She was beautiful beyond comprehension and there was something in the way she moved that made her an enchanting rhythm that glided through one's imagination like a welcomed dream.
By Dennis Humphreys4 years ago in Fiction
Uncertainty
Blue and white lights flash across the walls, casting away the darkness, as an alarm sounds with high-pitched tones. The room is nearly all white, with silver metal railings and handles on the doors and cabinets. A man with short and scraggly black hair sits up in his cot. Dressed in only his skin-tight white undershorts and shirt, he slowly sits up on the edge of the cot.
By Joshua Smith4 years ago in Fiction
Sinister Decisions
Night began to settle on the village of Camden Passage, signaling to the street vendors it was time to pack up shop. The marketplace was a din of activity and noise as last minute hagglers attempted to strike a deal, horses hooves clattered through dusty streets, and the bustling crowd went about their nighttime rituals. The struggling lone rogue and down on his luck pickpocket, Alton surveyed his target from the shadows. The fat traveler advertised his garish wealth with either blatant, overconfident inexperience, or idiotic carelessness. He wore brightly colored silks that advertised wealth as well as glittering jewels that adorned several thick fingers. Alton knew the roads south of the village were ripe with bandits and thieves eager to chance across a rich prospect at this man. He wouldn’t make it a mile before his rotting carcass served as a banquet for vultures and maggots. Alton needed to lighten the lord’s load before that band of brigands got him and stripped everything worth a copper off him.
By Aaron Thompson4 years ago in Fiction
