Gaotha TeIt had been one of those beautiful emerald Irish pastures once, kept low and verdant by livestock grazing. It was overgrown now that the extraterrestrials had gobbled up all the cows, chickens, deer, dogs, cats, pigs, hamsters, hedgehogs, small children, adults with the mentality of small children, sparrows, crows, barn swallows, geese...the list goes on. All there was to plod the earth were the few humans such as myself and old Myles and the dolphins which some sick alien had decided ought to run about on feminine legs.Gaotha Te by SgtPossum
"Get that glazed look out of your eyes, lad. It wasn't that fucking pretty to begin with." Myles growled. He pulled a mickey of Jameson's out of his blue trench coat and pulled a swig. "Now help me find the old brick shithouse. I buried Flann's treasure out behind it."
"You don't suppose anyone else found it before us, do you?"
"Oh, yea, well everybody goes diggin' around shithouses don't they?" Myles rolled his eyes and grumbled something in Gaelic. Perhaps I should s
Lament of ErebusI stood at the edge of the ice, a perfect line two feet higher than the ocean, and watched the beast attack my ship. The fools had abandoned their captain, thinking I'd led them to their deaths, but when they were not two miles out the creature struck.Lament of Erebus by SgtPossum
It was immense and slimy, black and blue and white, old and toothy. Its tail was like a whip and its maw was like a deep sea cavern. It cut through wood like paper. It popped my crew into its mouth like corn. The whole thing was over in several minutes of thrashing and twisting, throwing up a wall of foam a hundred feet high. And then, like a snake, the creature gently disappeared beneath the surface.
I turned around. Nothing but blinding white snow for hundreds of miles. No food, no fresh water, no salvation. Looking back into the sea, I saw the creature's enormous black form about to slip under the ice sheet, back to its abode. I drew my hunting knife and jumped in.
Sea MonsterIt burns, this old shipSea Monster by SgtPossum
Sailor's dreams are forgotten
But I taste their pain.
Living the Good LifeIt's good to be a mechanic. There isn't much gas being refined anymore, except in a few places, so the only people who come through are either real rich or fucking crazy. The rich ones are good because you can get a lot from them. The crazy ones are good because they talk to one another, and pretty soon every cannibal for a hundred miles knows not to chop you up.Living the Good Life by SgtPossum
Sometimes there are problems. People think they can muscle you, y'know. They'll ask for a breaker bar or they'll demand that you come with them and maintain their convoy. But I'm always firm; they won't kill a mechanic, no matter how wacko they are. It's impossible to rebuild a transmission if you don't know what the fuck you're doing, I'll tell you that much. But if they get real uppity, start waving machetes around and the like, I'm pretty quick with a pistol.
Of course, having a shop you can't just up and move off every time the locusts pass through or chlorinated rain starts coming down. God only knows how many times I've
The Next StageDis Carson and Zriz dropped their guns and raised their hands—on in Zriz’s case, claws—into the air. Zriz spat at the feet of the Eubolan holding them at gunpoint. Dis shared the sentiment. Out of habit, he berated himself. He should have seen the signs of ambush before boarding the derelict and called in the authorities. As if the life of a search and rescue unit wasn’t dangerous enough, he’d had to go charging into the dead ship looking for survivors. Trying to be a hero.
Instead, it looked like he was going to be just another victim. A five-year veteran should have known better.
“Look, just take the rations and go,” Dis said. “Shit ain’t even expensive.”
“Do not tell me you are afraid of death, Carson,” said Zriz with that clicking noise he had for a laugh.
“Hell no,” he said. “But dying at the hands of a filthy pirate over a measly box of food rations isn’t what I want carved as an epita
sewing the seeds of change.Silhouetted against the artificial sun, a man spotted me from across the plain and waved unceremoniously before turning away; he was the first human being I’d seen in six months. I did what any person who’d been alone that long would have done. I threw down my hose (the wheat would survive a few minutes without my care) and ran after him.
He walked slowly underneath the watchful eye of the solar lamp, the only one of the three in the station that remained operational after the end, and I kept running until I could touch the back of his shoulder with my calloused hand. Managing corn stocks and digging up potatoes had worked my hands into rough mitts that scratched on anything like sandpaper on silk.
“Who are you?” I asked, but he did not turn around.
He was looking at something in the distance, where my pseudo-sun barely touched. That part of the plain had wilted away, and had become the spot where I fermented plants and waste into mulch. I still had to
she whispers sweet nothings, i scream profanities.I found Beattie within the confines of a ruined church, cowering underneath the front row of pews with her hands over the back of her neck. She was convinced that the whole place would come down on top of her, and she always had to be prepared to protect her spine. I couldn’t blame her for that, only because you couldn’t get far in a ravaged world if your legs and arms didn’t work. She’d been dressed in her Sunday best for six months, though one of her white shoes was missing a heel.
“You should probably go somewhere else,” I advised her, taking a seat in the pulpit to light a cigarette. I set my guns down first, knowing that a girl like Beattie wouldn’t try anything dumb with me. If she did, I knew that I could take her head-to-head. “The insane people always scope out churches, thinking that God will save them.”
“God will save us,” she whispered, voice as quiet as a mouse in a fitting location.
Winter and FrostWinter sat outside, staring in wonder at the dwindling snowflakes dancing from the sky around her. She loved winter. To her, it felt magical. Sure, summer was gorgeous and fall was wonderful with all the colors, but nothing could compare to the sparkling frozen beauty of winter. And here she sat, in the midst of that beauty.
She was in the middle of a field, way past dark. Heavy snow had fallen only a few hours before, now only a few snowflakes fell from the dark sky, and the smooth blanket of white was undisturbed by even the animals.
Winter didn't want to leave, but the numb cold state of her body forced her to stand up and trudge through the powdery snow back into the small town where she lived.
The collection of cottages and other small buildings looked like a shadowy mass in the low moonlight, individual houses only distinguishable by the few that had warm yellow lights glowing in their windows. The lights disappeared one by one as she got closer, the late hour driving people into
A drunk Albertan, I'm a writer. I write stuff, and shit, and other things. Feedback is always appreciated, positive or negative.|
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