Hungry Hungry Universe (Art by C0laj)

As a force of turmoil and chaos, The Universe, the canvas for all things in existence to frolic on, is nothing and everything in between. As rumpled fabric, it does not recognize its moments as coming or going. The Universe is. And that should be enough. But as everything and nothing, The Universe decided longContinue reading “Hungry Hungry Universe (Art by C0laj)”

The Rider

He watches the gulls circle. They have the scent and screech and caw, and circle, and dive plunking at the soft bits, avoiding the scales and the still twitching clawed limbs. They scream with victory when able to take bits of brain or an eye airborne. Crabs work the soft underneath, maybe come in throughContinue reading “The Rider”

Looking for Someplace Better

A suicidal Thomas Scanlen scrapes a bit more rock from the initials he works into the soft moss covered stone. Next to his giant T.S. is an ancient bit of writing that could be Latin and next to it a bit of Celt. Satisfied he turns and faces the roar of water behind him. They say itContinue reading “Looking for Someplace Better”

Hermes II

A transport ship swings down and enters the first runway gate. It moves slow. Its two plasma engines glowing a dull yellow. The craft’s designation on the grey hull is written in chipped white paint, it reads SF 92/902. A little boy sits on his daddy’s shoulders watching. He asks, “is that them?” The boyContinue reading “Hermes II”


Droken sits a bit away from the rest of his party. He is thinking about stuff that bothers him. He decides elves bother him and he doesn’t like them. He thinks they are shiny and smell like flowers and they look too soft and their hair shimmers like cloudless nights after a deep snowfall. AsContinue reading “Droken”

In This Moment

In this moment I have forgotten everything that makes me more then lance, sinew, bone and muscle. I am my training. I am the stinking sulphur-breath of a two thousand stone flying lizard. I am the open black lipped rotten tooth maw. I am the slick mist and wet stone. The chill in the wind.Continue reading “In This Moment”

Going Fishing

Harold fingers the button behind his ear. But he decides not yet. Maybe he can make it tonight without it. Harold is a veteran. He fought on Europa. He killed fish. He killed fish fathers protecting their fish families. He stomped on freshly laid fish eggs containing fish babies destined for fish sentience. He killedContinue reading “Going Fishing”


Susan Tabalucci’s friends called her Trixie. She worked at the Virgin Record store at 23rd and Park in Manhattan. The date she disappeared was June 1st, 2009. Thirteen days later the store would close officially, but really had been closed since the first when a convoy of black SUV’s driven by men in black suitsContinue reading “Trixie”