When your ship came into our space we sent drones to discover what you were. They could not tell us, only saying you were an intelligently designed asteroid with a creature inside. They said you were safe, and we could not have known how wrong they were.
We launched ourselves on wings made of thoughts and flew to you, quick as quarks. A thousand bodies, we flew with one mind. We came to the simple asteroid you traveled in, made of aluminum and dust, a hollow bubble of your own waste. We slipped inside, sliding thin bodies in between the molecules of your container. You were unable to perceive us and we unable to hear you. Tiffany forced a reassuring smile onto her face. "We're just going to feed the ducks," she told the nurse. "I promise I'll take her straight to the park and back. There won't be any trouble."
The nurse raised an eyebrow at Tiffany. "There better not be. And be back before tea, do you hear?" This is not a regular story. This is a hungry story, built of words with tongues of glass and cracked marbles for eyes. You think you know this story, you think you've heard it before... but you haven't.
It only sounds like the one you know with its crunch-crunch-crunching of plot-laced bones and its smack-smack-smacking of fat story lips. He carried the squirming animal to his--no, their, he had to remember that now, their--bedroom, struggling to avoid her sharp teeth. The oversized ring he had given her glimmered on her left front leg; she had spent most of the evening biting and licking at it, when she had not been growling. He had ordered the musicians to play louder, to cover up the noise, but the growls still lingered in his ears.
When he reached the room, he secured her chain to one end of the bed, and sat gingerly at the other end. The waxing moonlight flooded the bed, giving a silver sheen to her red and snowy fur.
by Wayne Travis Rambo
Published on Mar 27, 2015
by Andrea Bradley
Monday This year I'm playing Aleysha in the Treaty Day play. She's the President's daughter. It's the best part I ever got and it's all because I got an "A" on my Ancient Earth diorama project.
Published on Mar 26, 2015
by Sylvia Spruck Wrigley
Published on Mar 25, 2015
by Michelle Muenzler
Published on Mar 24, 2015
by Cat Rambo
It's dark and I'm here alone. Not entirely dark. My fire casts a tiny wavering circle on the sand. Out in the darkness, I hear waves crashing on the beach.
Published on Mar 23, 2015
by Mari Ness
Published on Mar 20, 2015