The impact of the plasma round against the retaining wall sent shrapnel through Cool Monkey Dataskunk's cloak. His stunt flip off the wall had been effective as a dodge, but at the cost of his high dollar accessory. Upon landing, he dropped the canvas bag he was carrying to the ground and angrily ripped the … Continue reading Day Thirty-Eight – Gehenna
It's been over ten years since I was fortunate enough to have been a composition editor for a small Texas daily. I have a thousand stories I could tell you about my adventures in Central Texas. I'd prefer not to, as many strange and terrible things befell me in that dark place. I could tell … Continue reading Snippets
Well, here it is, ages later. Not the finale, but close, very close. If you want to read the first seven chapters and prologue, you can find them by searching Red Right Hand on this site or going here. 8. Collisions Hundreds of light years away from the Cotton Candy Nebula, and incidentally thousands of … Continue reading Doctor Who: Red Right Hand – Episode Eight
At the turn of the century, I was a fresh-faced youth sweating through a humid summer in North Carolina, soon to be setting off back West to recover from the first of several relationship disasters. I know, this smacks familiar already - whiffs of Gen-Xish mid-life memoirs, a hint of pre-millennial grandstanding perhaps. You'll be … Continue reading Of Silence and Sibilance
(Art: Prometheus - Theodoor Rombouts) THE REALITY OF PROGRESS My first short story was about a psychologist employed at a research facility in Southwestern Colorado. His employer was funded by the government to research ways to manipulate a human’s perceptions of his own reality through drugs and what was known as the Dream Room, basically … Continue reading Why Sci-Fi?
The light was painful and unfamiliar. It nipped at the eyelids and chewed the pupils of the newly awoken. Conditioned air knifed at the fugitive's exposed skin; starched cloth, bright white, irritated the rest of its body. It involuntarily cringed in the chair it was strapped to. The impulse to curl into a ball fought … Continue reading Day Thirty-Seven – Pampers For All Us Kids
The bloke's name was Cortena, or something. A handful in the cage, a cheap suck, my afternoon tickle. He had ratty, brown hair and a beard that looked like something dead and wild was trying to eat his face. Third of a group of four that walked into the coffee-fuck shop that morning, and I … Continue reading Vampire Workday