SolidDo you fear for me when I danceSolid by SgtPossum
Between the propeller blades?
Are you worried that one day I might
Miss a beat and slip into halves?
There's no need to be scared for either of us.
You're dancing right beside me,
And if you look long enough you'll see
The same cold steel coming for you.
Just hold my hand
And try not to jump faster than I.
Road TripI put a bullet in her head, but she keeps coming back to my front door. That's my fault.Road Trip by SgtPossum
But what isn't my fault, what I will never accept as my fault, are the things she leaves on the doorstep for me to find after she staggers back into the lake. They're photographs and diaries, addresses and phone numbers.
It's always something horrible--the first photograph was of four men in hoods surrounding a little girl on a plinth in a large stone room. They had cut her vertically along the belly, and her face was distorted. Another time I decided to go to an address; it was in Pittsburgh, a long way from my home. All it was, was an abandoned project. Barren floors and paint peeling from the walls, broken windows and the smell of mold and excrement. Then I stumbled on a trap door and found a pit to the old sewer line below. It stank of burning hair.
And the diaries. Oh, God. The things some people have seen.
But yesterday she left me a set of keys. I'd long since given up screaming at he
The OccultistThree floors beneath the earth, the Occultist toiled. His work was nearly done and in a room kept at just a few degrees Centigrade he murmured a hundred deranged prayers and spells in a dozen languages. He sat cross-legged in a circle of mare's blood between the skull of a hawk and the tail club of an ankylosaur, the Black Book of Sanghorot spread open in front of him. There was no light save for the soft pulse and flicker of an oil lamp dangling overhead.The Occultist by SgtPossum
The spirits, never slumbering, always flowing through the winds and hiding in crevasses and lurking under beds, answered him. They spoke indifferently of the plans he had laid out before them over the preceding weeks, the only opinion they cast was disdain for the impermanence of man's designs. He listened. He understood.
The Occultist bid the spirits a farewell and bowed his head to the concrete in reverence, smearing mare's blood on his forehead. There was unsettling laughter and agonized shrieks and the gas lamp blew out. For a ti
Young Man Wants PensionNobody was much older than thirty when we got here. I was nineteen. I jumped out of the belly of an RM-390 atmosphere skimmer, you know, one of those hydrogen sweepers they turned into drop ships. It was fun during training, the drop. Knowing it was a combat jump, I soiled myself at the first sign of enemy movement on the surface. Those Guludeb—they're not ones for subtlety. They know that in a head-to-head fight they've got us whipped.Young Man Wants Pension by SgtPossum
But I made it. Most of us did, actually. We landed in the hills, the youngest of us eighteen and the oldest of us thirty-two. Another year and the youngest of us will be older than the second extreme. We knew that going in. We just had no idea what it really meant.
They say it takes twenty years to properly colonize a habitable planet. Twenty years to build the cities and the facilities and the economy. Murad had been fully colonized a century before the Guludeb showed up. I wonder what the founders of the colony would have done differently if the
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.|
I've got a tumblr. SgtPossum.tumblr.com