Zombie Drabble #127 “Just Outside Tulsa, Day 18”

“So,” asked the grizzled vet with the sawed off shotguns, “where are you headed?”

She paused for a moment. She’d met up with some people in the past few weeks, and they always asked. Everyone is moving in some direction or another. She didn’t usually tell, but he reminded her of Dad. “Houston.”

“Why Houston?”

“My boyfriend goes to Rice.”

He stared at her. She knew what he was thinking.

“He’s not dead. He runs track and his father was taking him hunting when he was eight. If anybody’s alive, it’s Charlie.”

The old man nodded, unconvincingly. “All right then.”

Zombie Drabble #126 “Frosty”

Esther has a snow globe.

She also has four changes of clothes, two books, and some costume jewelry, all stuffed into a bookbag that she carries on her back. The bag and it’s contents she has only possessed a week.

The snow globe was given to her ten years ago, by her father, when she was six. It stays in her left hand, while her gun stays in her right. Once she used the globe to knock a zombie in the head, because she had to: but only once. She doesn’t want to break it.

They’re not being made anymore.

SF Drabble #119 “Back In The Saddle Again”

So I went and saw an Aerosmith concert. It was early 70’s Aerosmith, circa “Toys In The Attic.” The simulacra were convincing, right down to the boozy, coked-out stumbles.

When the estates of the great acts of the rock age started doing these tours, the first efforts were laughable: Animatronic fakery standing in one spot onstage, lip-syncing to the album tracks. Now it’s all top-of-the-line robots, they actually play and sing their parts. It’s totally convincing.

I took my Grandpa. He saw them in the late 80s, when he was a teenager. Said it was just like the real thing.

SF Drabble #118 “Soft Sell”

“What do you mean, ‘underperforming’?”

“Mrs. Eddy, your son is lagging behind the other students in math as well as reading comprehension. In addition, his class participation indicator is comparatively low.”

“And your solution is to… what?”

“We believe genetic modification therapy would benefit your son.”

“You want me to alter his genes so he’ll be better at math and reading?”

“Genetic modification therapy can also have positive effects on self-confidence, which would improve class participation.”

“But… he won’t be my son!”

“He will be a better son, Mrs. Eddy. Wouldn’t that make you happy? Wouldn’t that make him happy?”

Fantasy Drabble #80 “The Edda of Ul”

Ul, the first god, created himself out of sheer will. He found himself surrounded by nothingness: he was everything that existed. Self-knowledge was the sum total of knowledge available to him. There was nothing more to know.

In his measureless and eternal loneliness, Ul despaired. Eventually his sadness became so great it could no longer be borne: in a suicidal paroxysm, Ul ended his own suffering.

The resulting explosion can be considered the birth of the observable universe. The shrapnel of Ul’s body became all its matter, and his dissipated soul all its magic. Where the two combine is life.

Fantasy Drabble #79 “Zmey Gorynych”

I just don’t understand the townspeople around here. Are a few head of cattle and some reverence too much to ask? The cavern was empty, I’m not usurping anyone here. And let’s be clear: it’s not like I’m asking for the regular sacrifice of their marriageable daughters, like some in my position might. But do they make the distinction? No, to them all dragons are the same. A worm is a worm is a worm.

Honestly, it’s exhausting trying to deal with them. I think I’ll take a nap atop the hoard. I always feel better after a good hibernation.

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