The First ManThe snow hasn’t melted for six years now. Until one recent morning, I hadn’t seen any sign of another living soul in months.The First Man by SgtPossum
It was a gangly looking figure, struggling through the snowdrifts. I wouldn’t have even seen it had I not gone up to dig out the second bunker for supplies. Making sure I could find my way back with the radio positioner, I decided to follow it. The last time I had met someone out here, I’d had a lover for several days. Perhaps I would be so fortunate again.
On skis I quickly caught up to the walker. She was in her forties, with the thousand-yard-stare of a permanent wanderer looking out from her balaclava. I asked her to come to my bunker for a while.
“I can’t. Not without him.” She pointed ahead.
Once again, in flurrying snow was a human form, trudging along, obviously wearing snowshoes. So I sped along to this person, my heart bouncing around in my chest. Two people! Two people in one day! I thought of the great meals w
DroppedAn alien who insisted his given name was Gilgamesh gave me a time machine the other day. It was a little yellow egg, no larger than my fist, adorned with near-microscopic depictions of battles and ancient space monsters and other fascinating fantasies.Dropped by SgtPossum
First I used it to go back a week, just to see if it really worked, to order a grilled cheese at this restaurant where I had originally bought a burger. I avoided indigestion, but my head started to hurt when I realized my past self was nowhere to be found.
I went to my own birth and couldn’t find my parents at the hospital. It turned out they were at home, my mother quite skinny and beautiful, not haggard and heavily pregnant as dusty photographs had led me to believe. They were very nice people back then. I wonder why they ever evolved to be so malicious later on.
I no longer existed, except as a strange and hazy figure out of place. But when I returned to the present, nothing had changed. My girlfriend hadn’t even noticed
InterrogationThree days of rain had come to an end; Jeff Kuhn's boots squelched in the grass of a backyard on the north end. He paused a moment when the porch light sensed he and Talobor Pavlevic's movement. Talobor, who they called "Ludilo" behind his back, was an enormous man with a square head and a broad chest, the typical Bosnian track-suit wearing gangster. Jeff hated the nine-mil toting psychopath.Interrogation by SgtPossum
Clear sky, blinking aircraft lights motoring between the stars. It was a good night for a fire, like a family down the street. A good night to go to the trailer park and find a party, or maybe head to the bar with dad and patch things up. Instead he and Talobor were out to solve the mystery of who put two bullets in Andre's brain. And somehow he had to find evidence that pointed anywhere but at himself.
This was one of those nights he desperately wished for a regular job.
Talobor made a face that told Jeff to get moving, so he did. The way up and across the porch Kuhn thought angrily, eat shit.
4242: Fundamental LawsHeld in place by enormous steel couplers, the General Esteban Navarro dwarfed every explorer, medical transport, and freight slinger on the station docks. It was big enough, Ramon Galvez figured looking up at its nose from a port bar, that oncoming traffic could see it from a thousand miles away. He puffed on a cigarette and drank overpriced beer from one of those odd hourglass pints that were so popular in these places.4242: Fundamental Laws by SgtPossum
It was a hell of a ship, yessir. A little less than a kilometer long, though to be fair most of that length was made up by the strange matter drive. Bristling with laser cannons and rail guns and missile launchers and mine layers that weren't a hell of a lot of use unless you had somewhere real nice to hide. Ramon stubbed out his smoke in the ashtray, with more force than he intended.
The strange character who sat across the table noted Ramon's frustration. A tall, rugged human in his forties, the man had sat watching the Navarro's captain wordlessly and with obvious a
Mr. SarcasmOh, show me how much you love your cat,Mr. Sarcasm by homunculus888
and I'm so moved by that lone horizon tree silhouette.
Call your work "Metamorphosis" for no apparent reason,
then proceed to tell me about non-conformism.
Eyeballs and limbless torsos in your surreal piece?
Your epic skillz give me pause -
I need a shovel.
Portrait of a vampire queen?
Be still my heart.
Close-up photo of a rusty spot -
Now that's art!
By all means give us more
melodrama in your prose or poetry,
moody filtered darkroom photography,
sugary sweet sentimentality,
or urban abstracts lacking originality.
“Be yourself”, you say?
“Never give up”, eh?
Wisdom learned from Apple ads?
Or bubblegum wrappers?
Toss them where they belong -
right down the crapper.
Why should I care for your watches or faves,
respond to your comments, or listen to praise?
My group is administered with care and finesse,
a membership of one,
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
Two AM, At A PlaygroundThe streets all slick with rain reminded him of a hazy digital painting, the lights in their puddles formed with exaggerated, unpolished brush strokes. A half-dozen men and women in front of the bar, all lit up by the big white light hanging over the bouncer, formed the only distinct part of the scene. He wished he knew how to paint the things he saw.
Standing beneath a playground, he looked miserable and out of place. The loaded revolver in his right hand looked more like a child's toy in this setting. What a place for a skid bar like that, he thought, just across the street from an elementary school. Tomorrow if all went as planned the kids who played on these swings and platforms would be stuck behind yellow tape, their vacation place home to grisly murder.
Murder as committed by Jeff Kuhn, a man who played the part of a lost high school graduate far better than that of a hitman.
Nearly ten to two. The greasy biker son of a bitch would be coming out any minute, dragged drunkenly alo
A drunk Albertan, I'm a writer. I write stuff, and shit, and other things. Feedback is always appreciated, positive or negative.|
I've got a tumblr. SgtPossum.tumblr.com