SF Drabble #215 “Ceres Complaint Box”

To whom it may concern,

Maybe it hasn’t occurred to you people that I’m all alone up here. It’s not like I can while away the time in conversation. It’s not like I can just call up my friends and invite them over for pizza. I have to entertain myself.

So if I don’t get the weekly download, I don’t get my subscriptions. I just have to sit here. And I know I’m still getting charged for the stuff I picked whether I get it or not.

Sort the goddamn antenna out. And remember: I can shut down the auto-miners.

SF Drabble #214 “Cross Examination”

“What do you remember?”

“I was driving, and there was this bright light, and suddenly I was strapped to this table on a spaceship and—”

“How do you know it was a spaceship?”

“Well, there was this hum, you know?”

“Fine. Go on.”

“Well, then I was surrounded by aliens, and they were pokin’ at me—”

“What did the aliens look like?”

“Well, they were short and had grey skin, and these big black eyes, and long fingers—”

“So, not at all like my client, then.” The lawyer pointed at the defense table, where a squat, black-carapaced insectoid alien sat.

Fantasy Drabble #156 “Normalcy”

It’s just a wardrobe. It’s not a door. I mean, there’s a door on it, but it doesn’t lead to anywhere. Understand? Just hang your clothes in there. There’s no reason for anyone to be stepping into it. You can reach all your things just fine from outside.

I don’t want to hear anything about anyone getting lost in any parallel dimensions or fantastic worlds, or befriending any mythical creatures, or getting enchanted by any magical spells of any kind. Is that clear? I’m quite serious about this. There’s been quite enough of that sort of thing around here already.

Zombie Drabble #230 “Cancer And You”

I had a doctor’s appointment that Friday. Got one of those diagnoses where they give you a pamphlet and a pitying look they’re trying desperately to hide, and regardless of their success you’re a zombie the rest of the day.

Ironic, huh?

I wonder if they’ll even eat me. I wonder if they can smell the death on me. Or, in me. I wonder if I walked out into my front yard and threw my head back and stood there with the sun on my face, whether they would think of me as food or as one of their own.

Fantasy Drabble #155 “Territory”

Half the town was gone by the time they tried fire, but even that didn’t work: the roots and branches wouldn’t burn. If you cut them from the trees with an axe, then they would light, but another would have just grown in their place. It was a losing battle.

I was only seven. I remember my father talking to the mayor, faces serious. I remember being told to gather my things now. Mother helped me, but still we left a great deal behind. By the next morning the forest had retaken the town, and we were on the road.