Blog
The human parents seemed especially attached to their offspring, and the agreed exchange weighed on them more than it ought to, given the opportunities. Terix had kept his shield up in case the outbursts turned on him, but the mother and father seemed more lost than aggressive, like a ship without navigation controls.
The aliens arrived on schedule, 42 days after the Announcement. Everyone gathered outside their homes to watch the skies.
She let him dress in silence in front of the mirror. Aaron tried not to inspect too closely at the grey in his curls of black chest hair, or the paleness of his freckles, or the dark circles under his eyes. When was the last time he’d gone out into the proper sun? Not the UV baths, but outside? On instinct, he turned to look over the ‘windows’, but his only view was a computer-generated screen of an unblemished blue sky.
“And this thing is supposed to talk in hieroglyphics to her?” Cyrus asked, holding the little microphone up to the light.
“Hieroglyphs,” said the Egyptologist. Mister Brown, something? Or was it Green?
Something about the air was off. That was the first thing I noticed. I blinked up to light, slightly too bright, my arms folded over my chest where I lay. I looked down. Why had my bandages been removed? Did it not work? I flexed my fingers. Turned my hands over in front of me….
A short story I started a while ago and never finished… The pink balloon hadn’t popped despite it being nearly ten thousand feet off the ground. A scientific impossibility and yet, a magical reality. Terry reached out for the string, but a huff of wind shot it wobbling out of his grasp and his fingers…
Amy was a middle child. I specify this because it’s integral to what happens in this story. You see, Amy, like most middle children, had the habit of getting herself in unlikely situations, then hoping that some family member or random do-gooder would intervene and save her life. All princesses caught in towers or imprisoned…
I’m excited to introduce a new idea, so let’s see how this goes! I want to tell a “Choose Your Own Adventure” story with you, my reader. Except in this version, it will be a “Choose Your Own Murderer” story. How it works: Every couple of weeks (or as often as I can manage), I will…
She turned, the air rushing past her, the ground coming closer. Ever closer. Blackness, rushing up. Seconds. A heartbeat in her ears.
You’re a girl. Young. No more than five or six. You sit on the floor, legs tucked under you. Mom perches on the couch, a blanket on her lap because she’s always cold. She props the hardcover book in one hand and holds it aloft like a prize. The cover has a sheen to it;…