Zombie Drabble #83 “Extreme Measures”

“There’s another,” Shaw said, floating with his face pressed against the telescope viewer. He waved the Commander over. “Looks like Dallas.”

When Vance looked, the flash had faded to a dull orange, and a ring-shaped shockwave was spreading, growing from around the epicenter. “Yeah.”

Shaw asked, “Is this going to work?”

“Fuck if I know. Give them a fighting chance, anyway. Every flash is a million zombies some poor bastard doesn’t have to shoot in the head.”

“Just doesn’t seem right,” the younger astronaut muttered. “Bombing our own cities.”

“I know what you mean. But they’re not our cities anymore.”

Zombie Drabble #82 “The End of the World”

Early spring. Shooting stars for three days straight, odd, loud, sharp thunder. Rain for three more days afterwards. Grateful for the fresh water, we praised Yah.

When Old Ying died, the devil did not take his corpse. It happens sometimes, so we thought nothing of it.

Then Juni’s baby died and did not turn. Considering the shooting stars, the thunder, the rain might be Signs…we wondered: had Yah finally vanquished the devil and his plague?

We killed a prisoner to be sure. He also did not turn. It will be a strange world indeed where the dead do not walk.

Zombie Drabble #81 “Out of the Mouths of Babes”

My kid asked me today, “What used to happen to people when they died?”

I said, “What do you mean?”

“Daddy,” she said, exasperated at my obtuseness as only a five year old can be, “now they turn into zombies but they didn’t always, so what did they used to turn into?”

“Angels.” My wife said it in her ‘and that’s final’ voice.

She was quiet for a while, my daughter. Then, finally, she said. “I don’t think I could do it.”

“What, honey?” my wife asked.

“Shoot an angel in the head. They can fly so it’d be harder.”

Zombie Drabble #80 “Desensitized”

Around about the tenth day I met a girl with a necklace of human ears. Zombie ears, I guess. I hope. She let Joel and I crash at her place, she’d fortified it pretty good.

In the backyard, there was a zombie in a cheap business suit, a dog collar around his neck, with a short leash tied to a clothesline.

“Oh, Chester? Yeah he was my dickhead boss,” she said. “He was always looking down my blouse, putting his hand on my knee. What a tool.”

She shot Chester in the stomach and he moaned. “Pretty fun now, though.”

Fantasy Drabble #28 “Rajid, Jr.”

Rajid waited until the pain was unbearable before going to see the healer. She took one look at it and sent him across the river to the hedge magician who lived at the forest edge.

“I wish you’d come sooner, farmer.” The old man said, sadly. “How long ago did the imp bite you?”

“Two weeks. Is it too late, will I die?”

“No. But we’ll have to deliver the baby.”


“The imp baby. When the adult imp bit you, you were impregnated.”

Rajid just stared.

The hedge magician asked, exasperated, “well where did you think imps come from?”

Zombie Drabble #79 “Landscaping”

I had a backhoe rented for the weekend, as it happened. Needed to remove a tree stump, but plans change. Had the family lock themselves in while I dug a moat. I cut the driveway first. Zombies were already showing up by the time I was finished with it. They walked right into it.

It’s taken a long time to circle the house with a ditch six foot deep. I hope I don’t run out of gas before it’s done. I’m getting pretty good at knocking ‘em down with the bucket and using the blade to cut their heads off.

Fantasy Drabble #27 “Syrenika”

I’ll tell you where the city is. I’m not all that concerned about it, because you’ll never get there. It’s ten thousand feet down. Even if you could breathe underwater, you’d be crushed at that depth. The merpeople can do it because they’re magic.

I’ve heard the stories same as you. But take it from me: there’s nothing down there for you but death. But, hey, you’ve got a boat, and plenty of gold, and a thirst for more. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. I’ll mark it on the map. But you’re paying me up front.

Zombie Drabble #78 “Teaching Opportunity”

We’d be clearing buildings, which takes forever, and sometimes guys will get lazy, not open every door. Sarge doesn’t fuck around. He’ll ask ‘em, point blank, “Did you skip that room over there?” Usually they’ll do the smart thing and own up.

But Jenkins took a gamble. “Naw, Sarge, I checked it.”

Sarge says, “All right then,” takes Jenkins’ rifle away, opens the door, shoves Jenkins through, and closes it behind him. Held the door shut a whole minute.

Jenkins was cryin’ when we let him out. Held the zombie off with a desk chair. He’s learned his lesson, though.

Parking Spot

James whipped the Frisbee downrange with all his might. His arm was starting to hurt, and he was very conscious of being watched.

The dog bounded off after the disc, head up, at a completely unreasonable speed. He was under the Frisbee in seconds, waiting for it to drop within reach. When it did the dog leapt gracefully and caught it in his mouth.

There was a wash of polite applause from the crowd behind the police line. When it died down, the crowd was perfectly silent once again.

As the dog trotted leisurely back from across the field, another assistant ran up behind James and spoke in his ear: “That’s an even hundred. Has he said anything?”

“Nope. Small talk. A couple compliments on my throwing arm”

“The Secretary would like you to ask him…”

“I’m not asking him anything. He’s having a good time.”

The assistant sighed. “Okay, but I’m just telling you what I’m supposed to tell you, because if I go back over there and say…”

“All right, all right. What does he want me to ask?” The suits, and a few uniforms, stood in a small group under a tree. The Secretary had the bench, of course, but he had invited James’ girlfriend to sit beside him.

“Has he given any more thought to the possibility of a technological or cultural exchange?”

“I really doubt he has, but I’ll see if I can work it in. Now go away, here he comes.”

The dog trotted up, dropped the Frisbee at James’ feet, and sat panting happily beside it.

“That was a good one.” James offered, as he bent to pick up the disc.

“Thanks! I’m really getting the hang of it,” The dog exclaimed. When he spoke his mouth contorted strangely, not at all doglike. “What did he want?”

“Oh,” answered James, “They want me to ask you some stuff, I guess.”

“Knock yourself out. Gotta catch my breath anyway.”

“Well, stuff about trade. You know. They’re looking for an angle.”

The laugh was like a bark. “I’m sure!”

“How about a cultural exchange?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, movies; music; novels. I assume that’s what he means.”

“The man on the bench.”

“Yeah. The Secretary.”

The dog looked over, head cocked to one side. “He’s talking to your mate.”


“Will he steal her from you?”

James laughed out loud. “He’s a little old. And not her type. Anyway, we’re Democrats.”

After a moment, the dog stood. “Okay, let’s go again!” 

James obliged by winding up and letting the Frisbee fly again. It sailed out over the green expanse, across the path, and halfway to the parked ship, the dog under it all the way.

When he had caught it and brought it back to James’ feet again, the dog said, “I’m sure there’s something we’ll trade for. There always is. We’ll make sure you get a piece of it, whatever it is.”

“Hey, thanks,” James said.

“No problem. Sorry about landing on your dog.”

Fantasy Drabble #26 “Player vs. Player”

I got hired to write the plot for an online fantasy game. You know, hack and slash, monsters and magic. So they wanted one religion for the good guys, one for the bad guys. ‘Competing Mythos’ the guy said.

So I did it. The evil one was more fun, of course. I think I really hit something there, got into it. It’s taken on a life of it’s own.

Early on I wrote an evil leveling scheme where you have to sacrifice a virgin. Gonna see if it works, got one tied up out back. Then I’ll try some spells.

Zombie Drabble #77 “Corolla”

Momma was in the kitchen eating when I came out to look. I think it was the neighbor lady she was eating. She looked to be at it a while, so I gathered up the little kids and we went out the front.

The station wagon’s a stick, I can’t drive it, but Bobby Forrest once let me take a try at his automatic, so I figured I could drive one of them. Neighbor lady’s door was open, keys were just sittin’ there on the counter.

It’s a Toyota, but now’s not the time to get particular about such things.

SF Drabble #54 “Distractions”

I was sitting around thinking yesterday, as I sometimes do, and suddenly had an idea with regards to non-linear time constructs. I was about to write it down when a transparent box appeared at the foot of the bed. I stepped out of it. I mean, another me.

He, the other me, said, “Don’t. Just… don’t.”

“But…” I was about to protest.

“Trust me. Trust yourself. Don’t. Oh, and… 46, 73, 18. Tomorrow’s Pick Three. It’ll be just enough to keep your mind off it.”

He turned to step back into the box. “Oh, and also… go ask Kathy out.”