A sour lemon sky presided over the town where only lorry drivers and gangsters could afford petrol. Half of the streets were bathed in terminal twilight. Leon said he had business on the dark side and promised he wouldn’t be long. Lara waited between two worlds near the glassy storefront that mirrored all. An hour…
Category: Friday Fictioneers
#FF — Still we dance
Neither machines nor prophecies warned us. It’s been two centuries since Earth suffered a decade of pelting by radioactive rubble from an exploded sun. During the first months, humans dug underground habitations – and that’s where we’ve stayed. Most surface life that wasn’t allowed in or able to survive died out. The rest adapted like…
#FF — On the fence
Trees surrounded the house like a cage. Tangi asked the realtor, “Why has this house been on the market so long? The price is more than right.” Inhaling visibly, the realtor answered, “Mechanically it’s sound, and there are no liens.” “That’s not what I asked.” “Once an offer is made, I’m able to disclose specifics,”…
#FF — lullaby
Tourists returned to the village of Hualong, after enduring five years of rigidly enforced international travel restrictions. Three years prior, laissez faire attitudes and practices had killed or disabled twenty million worldwide. The vaccine was developed from a tropical fungus that could be easily mass-produced. Mae could hear them in her upper apartment over the…
#FF — Dark Passage
Southwest circuit was from Albuquerque to Phoenix to Vegas to San Diego to L.A. — and every truck stop in between. The Fleetwood rolled 365. Rick maintained a stable of six girls, earning enough to keep them looking pretty with plenty of substances to keep them pliable. More than six became a pain in his…
#FF — A scout finds her purpose
The Belafonte was rounding Cape Horn, headed back to Pescespada Island, when Vikram called out to Pelé, “You’re not going to believe what I’m seeing!” Pelé joined Vikram at the underwater observation porthole; his eyes grew wide as he gasped. “Go get Steve and everybody!” Soon the entire crew was gathered around, agog. Were they…
#FF — Heavy Metal
At age four, Timmy rarely spoke. From the many crayons, he chose only blue to do his scribbles. He seemed tuned out and didn’t make eye contact. Sometimes he spontaneously tantrummed. Maya sought help. Conventional opinions and treatments ranged from his being an idiot that needed confinement; to he would grow out of it so…
Tao-Talk 