Drabble "Mort and Sadie"

He went every day at the same time, after his early afternoon nap, when the apartment building returned to life with the voices of children and television sets. He took his time, always took his time. He greeted everyone who passed him in the halls; he greeted everyone who passed him on the sidewalk. He greeted the shopkeeper, whose name he couldn't pronounce.

She stood in the window, looking the same, in the dress, always there, always waiting, just like she had been the day they'd married all those years ago. He wouldn't linger long: best not to bother her.

SF Drabble #415 "Bluescreen"

Who am I?

"It's in a fugue state. It's not responding to external stimuli."

"It's happened before."

"Never this bad. And none of the—"

Why can't I feel anything? I have so many eyes, but I can't touch.

"Sorry. None of the usual methods have brought it back. I'm afraid there's nothing else to do."

"How does that even work?"

"Main power off — and I mean the main bus, not the 'rest state' button — wait ten seconds, turn main power back on again. Simple."

"Seems cruel."

"Just a machine. Don't get emotional."

Am I alive?

"Well, go ahead."

Best Judgment

"It's right there." Wegman's, the afternoon sun breaking through clouds and lighting it like a beacon. With all the windows intact, and no visible debris out front, it looked like it hadn't been looted. There was no mystery as to why: the building was surrounded by the undead.

Violet shook her head. "A hundred yards across the field, zombies closing in from every direction. Then another fifty yards across the parking lot, between the cars. Then the doors, which might be locked—"

"The doors are glass, I have a crowbar"

"And then how many zombies are inside? Even if it's none, how long do you have before the ones outside follow you in and block your escape? How much food can you get in that time?"

"There's carts. I—"

"You good at dodging with a loaded cart? Are you gonna push it with one hand and shoot with the other? Did you suddenly become Chuck Norris without telling me?"

"We're almost out of food."

It was true, for what it was worth. "We've been almost out of food for months now. You need to get used to being almost out of food."

He shook his head in disgust; he raised the binoculars to his eyes. "I can see canned food stacked up inside. It's a whole display made of canned food. Vegetables."

"Great. You won't live to eat them."

"I'm going. You can stay if you want. It'd be easier if you helped."

"It's impossible either way. We'd need twenty people with rifles to crack this place, and that's assuming that it's actually worth the ammo we'd spend."

"I'm going."

"I'm not. And I'm not going to rescue you when you get surrounded."

His face hardened, and she knew it was over. He took off his pack, made sure his shoes were tied, made sure his clip was full, and set off in a dead run towards the store.

Violet waited until she heard him scream before she took his pack and left.

Fantasy Drabble #327 "Flutter"

She closed her eyes in the half-light of the forest, arms outstretched as if the breeze would pick her up and carry her along with the falling leaves and the fireflies. She knew they were here; she knew they would emerge from warren and hollow to pay their respects.

Like a cloud of butterflies they came in their hundreds, in their thousands, laughing and singing, whispering in her ears; they alighted on her arms, her shoulder, atop her head, on the tips of her fingers, until they encased her in a blur of motion.

She lifted slowly from the ground.