Egan stood invisible along the edge of the northern tree line, in the absence of manufactured light to blot out connection to the universe. Eyes fixated on the heavens above, the coruscant green-blue waves of the solar wind setting Earth’s magnetic ceiling alight. A dazzling reminder of humanity’s insignificance in the vast cosmos.
Continue readingStill there, a dusty case beneath his vintage Ford bench seat. The hiss and sibilance of old cassette tapes instantly transporting me to the lake… fishing with Grandpa.
Weeks working long hours in the remote oil sands had taken their toll but today the company-sponsored busses rolled into the Saloon of this makeshift northern town.
The jamboree would run non-stop for the next five days, it was time to cut loose. The booze would flow and the comfort girls, drawn to payday money, would be primed and ready for the carousing to begin.
Billy hated himself watching the stranger, her curves rocking in his lap. Back east, his Annie was waiting for his return.
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My attention had shifted to Helena, hijacked by the pheromones (or perfume) wafting on the air currents in the auditorium.
Professor Carmichael was droning on about Lepidoptera and the infinite mutations that made something as simple as a Madagascan Sunset moth possible.
My attentions were more carnal. Although genetics were not top of mind, all that mattered were the variations that made such a beautiful creature possible.
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“What a year!” Emma hadn’t been this happy since her teens.
Yes, she’d raised two wonderful children that she wouldn’t trade for anything. Still, an ache inside, she didn’t belong here. Her spirit longed to escape its cage and soar.
Finding Celine had set her free.
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.
It didn’t matter if this tinpot dictatorship trampled on the rights of its citizens or those sharing a border. He was the President’s guest, and as such smiled while flippant comments about war crimes and human rights violations flew around the table.
Back home, blame for the Ambassador’s cozy relationship fell squarely on the Prime Minister. Like a good civil servant, he tendered his resignation to conceal the government’s secret support for the regime.
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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.
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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.
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