SF Drabble #302 “Voice”

“Who am I speaking to? This is a restricted channel, identify yourself…”

“I’m nobody. I live here.”

“You live where? Here? On Karalock III? Nothing lives on Karalock III.”

“I do.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m nobody. I live here.”

“Fine, nobody, have it your way. Get off this channel.”

“You’re leaving.”

“I’m not going anywhere, nobody. Now quit bothering me. Freddie? Is this you, Freddie? This isn’t funny. I’ll have to report you.”'

“This isn’t Freddie: Freddie’s dead. I’m nobody. I live here. You don’t live here, you’re leaving.”

“What do you mean, ‘Freddie’s dead’? Who the hell is this?”

Fantasy Drabble #232 “Happy Tree Friend”

She was preparing to start her climb — looking for a good handhold — when the tree opened its eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to climb you….”

“Why on Earth would you do something like that?”

She shrugged. “It just seemed like a fun thing to do. I bet I could see all the way to town from there.” She pointed to a particular branch, more than halfway up.

“Oh, you certainly could; it’s quite a view. Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Best get on with it before it gets too dark and you can’t climb safely down.”

Zombie Drabble #320 “Substitution”

The zombies were pounding on the inside of the sliding glass door and it was clearly not going to hold; Colleen hurriedly climbed over the railing to her neighbor’s deck. Their door was locked, so she climbed over the next railing, and then the next. She was halfway down the row of townhouses before she found an unlocked back door. It was Mrs. Dearborne’s house. The old lady was sound asleep on the sofa, television on.

Colleen tiptoed to the front door, and —  after making sure the coast was reasonably clear — ran out, leaving Mrs. Dearborne’s door hanging wide open.

Zombie Drabble #319 “Natural Selection”

“Here comes somebody now.”

They peered over the jersey barrier to see a pudgy man in a sweat-soaked shirt stumbling up the street. He looked behind him to make sure there were no zombies close by, and then stopped to rest, doubled over at the waist, back heaving.

“Jesus, is this asshole gonna throw up? Buy a fucking treadmill, why don’t you?” Perry spat the words in disgust.

“…Little late for that.”

“Fuck this guy.” Perry rose up and fired; the pudgy man fell.

“What the fuck, Perry?!”

“You want him slowing us down?”

“He might have been a doctor!”

SF Drabble #301 “Colony”

“So what’s the deal here, Lieutenant?”

“They’re organized like ants, somewhat. The big one with the egg sac, she’s the Queen. The four smaller ones that are painted orange, those are her husbands. The ones with guns are soldiers, and everybody else is—”

“Workers?”

“More like ‘citizens’, but close enough.”

“And? What do they say?”

“The Queen is pleased to meet us. The husbands are arguing over something, I can’t tell, maybe who gets to play host. The soldiers all want to kill us, I think.”

“And the workers?”

“The citizens just want to know if they can eat us.”

SF Drabble #300 “For Those Who Peril On The Sea”

We dropped into normal space and knew immediately we were on a salvage and recovery operation. We were amidst an expanding cloud of debris with a broken hulk at its center: the Resolve. She’d left New Malaysia only a week before, gone to search for Woolies skulking around between systems. Apparently she’d found more Woolies than she was prepared to face.

It took us eight days to cut all of the dead out of her; then we towed the hulk back and dropped her into New Malaysia’s sun. The ship’s band did a wonderful job on the hymn. Really stirring.

Fantasy Drabble #231 “NPC”

I was taking a walk through the village when they rode in: a pair of warriors in mirror-polished armor carrying razor-sharp swords, a warlock in a flowing blue robe that seemed to crackle as it billowed in the wind, a shifty-looking thief with a shortbow, and a busty cleric who looked like she could crush you between her thighs  without breaking a sweat.

The children all gathered around and cheered; the warlock tossed them coins, which earned him a grimace from the thief. Eventually the party made their way into the tavern… I didn’t follow. I don’t want any trouble.