Kneeling in the front pew,
alone, paralyzed.
I want to run.
He’ll return,
in mitre and full vestments.
The crack of the staff,
Rings through the sanctuary.
Ashamed, I will obey.
No Sanctuary
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Tag Archives: #microfiction
Red Mist
Red Mist
Terryl felt ill, a gnawing in his stomach that had started in the hours following his return from Orion Prime’s surface.
The mission was uneventful, a ride through the red tide mist to the Orion-Beta mine site where the landing party deployed new communications boosters and completed routine software updates on the mining bots.
No one else from the team was reporting anomalies but several days later Terryl sat in sickbay awaiting his fourth assessment; his previous scans had come back normal, but he was certain something was eating away at his insides.
Continue readingParadise Lost
Paradise Lost
Andi survived alone, hidden from the Chinese military patrols. America’s interest in democracy had waned three generations earlier, inevitably falling to the Communist regime in the anarchy that ensued. Her only escape was imagining the picturesque herds of wild buffalo, tall grasses and the endless blue mid-west sky she’d read about in forbidden books.
Continue readingBlood Sacrifice
Blood Sacrifice
Beaver Springs was vernacular in every sense. Every detail focused on making the homes of this community intuitively functional, yet unmemorable. An architectural achievement rarely seen in cookie-cutter neighbourhoods.
Despite its utilitarian appeal, there was something deeper, sinister at play. The residents congregated at nightfall, like lions, tense as they waited. Their prey, almost always a woman, plucked from the dirty forgotten streets across town.
When she was too weak to fight back, the sun fixing to rise in the east, they would share in a communion of blood sacrifice.
Continue readingThe Cipher
The Cipher
A Month had passed since intercepting a message. Most believed it was intercepted from a Chinese-Russian military satellite, our enemy in a war the Allies were losing, but I believed it had come from someone or something else. Everyone knew cracking the code, completely indiscernible to the best and brightest working around the clock, was key to our victory.
As I sat staring at the letters, numbers, and symbols, my eyes bugging out of my head, they began to lift from the page and realign before my eyes. I had done it, I’d found the key to deciphering the entire transmission. The message read,
Been a Long Time…
Been a Long Time…
A hypothetical conversation between old Rockers in rockers; a typical day at the Association of Retired Rock and Rollers (ARRR) Seniors’ Center.
“The business has changed so much” Plant lamented. “Back in the day, we needed to record start to finish.”
“Could you imagine all the spliced tape if we recorded like they do today?” Jimmy shot back laughing.
“I know, we laid down tracks and layered them on top of each other. The new artist builds loops and mixes it all together in segments on a computer.” John Paul continued, “Shit for some tracks I could pound out six notes on my bass and be done. Let the mixer do the rest.”
“The nuance of a song is lost because every drum beat, every riff, every hook, and every chorus is recorded once and used again and again, reuseable and replaceable across multiple tracks on the same record. Identical in every way. The human element is lost.” Page postulated. “Not to mention the shit that stolen, I mean sampled from other people’s works.”
“What’s worse, auto-tune makes any pretty-faced Frankenstein sound like Fitzgerald. Imagine how pitch-perfect I could have sounded on Stairway. 🎶And she’s buying a…” Plant finished by singing the final line badly out of tune.
“You know what I miss the most, besides John smashing away on drums, jamming together in the studio. Now we can record the parts in our basement studios and email it in. I guess there is one positive though, I never have to see any of your ugly faces!”
Tea Time Secrets
Tea Time Secrets
“This cake is exceptional.” Ana gushed while taking another bite. “The citrus balances perfectly with the blueberries and rich creamy icing. How do you get it to shine through the sweetness?”
“A tablespoon of lemon zest.” I replied sipping my tea.
I must admit I do love me some lemon blueberry anything. What could go any better with a cup of Murchie’s Afternoon blend (formerly the Empress blend served exclusively during tea time at the iconic Empress Hotel in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada.) The recipe for the absolutely delicious Blueberry Lemon Cake pictured in this post can be found on The Preppy Kitchen blog.
The Omphalos
The Omphalos
Bram didn’t fully comprehend the significance of his discovery. To him they were nothing more than aimless notions scrawled on scraps of paper. A whim to fill the empty spaces between the real work.
His mind could be relentless as it hummed along from one thought to the next without pause. Just another moment of noise when all he ever sought was silence.
Yet, the concept now existed, hurtling in all directions like an earthquake rippling outward from its epicenter. He was the Omphalos and they would be coming for him.
Continue readingNever Surrender
Bombs rain down indiscriminately as sirens pierce the evening air.
A city set ablaze as it crumbles to the ground.
Plumes of grey and purple smoke rise into the red dusk.
A mother and her child dance through the streets.
Arms outstretched as the ashen sky falls like confetti about them.
Choosing to join the dead than ever surrender.
Life/Forgiveness
Life
The bastard left me spinning at thirteen. Got himself killed at work and never came home. I’ve hated him through years of anger, substance abuse and self-destruction.
Forgiveness
Dead from overdose, his ghost paid me an impromptu visit. Narcan pulled me back but his forgiveness changed my life forever.
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