Beynon, a little known Near Space historian, found himself thinking about Winston Churchill as he transferred into Jovian orbit. Churchill, ignoring his advisers, had flown 18 hours from a meeting with the U.S. president in Bermuda back to England during the height of the Second World War. Miraculously he evaded detection by the Luftwaffe.
Darnell stopped throwing bags into the back of the garbage truck for a moment to look up at the two streaks chasing each other across the sky above the city: one red, one blue. He rubbed his callused hands against each other, working the dirt and dust further into the lines of his palms. "Hey, Leena," he said.
Leena climbed down from the garbage truck's cab and walked over. She wiped sweat from her forehead, smearing it with grit. "What's up?" Miranda waddled into our cabin, something green and many-limbed squirming in her arms.
"Dammit, Randy!" I grabbed my sidearm. "What have I told you about bringing critters into the house?" When Satan comes out of Whole Foods, dressed as an old lady, He finds his car surrounded by other shoppers. Inside His bichon is yapping like mad and pawing the windows.
"You should be ashamed," a woman in yoga pants says, "leaving your dog in there with the windows closed." We broadcasted the radio and TV programs, our messages of welcome we thought would show humanity's kind depths, our documentaries of triumph, the math that was our most complicated, and pointed them towards the stars. But Lucha Libre leaked out and so did MTV. The stories we thought showed our dignity only showed how much we were willing to sweep under the rug to mythologize our humanity. So the Sloths came--to put us out of our misery.
We call them Sloths because it looks like they're barely moving, just giant blobs of flesh, but the truth is they're moving so fast we can't see it--a million legs all over their bodies so quick the human eye can't catch them, mouths so nimble they spout entire treatises before we've even registered a hum. In the first days, someone caught the Sloths on camera, put it on Youtube in slo-mo so we could see how wrong our name for the creatures was, names the news stations themselves had given us. Then the stations were wiped out. Then we lost access to the web.
by Philip A Berry
Published on May 24, 2016
by Craig Lincoln
Published on May 23, 2016
by Michael Haynes
Published on May 20, 2016
by Michelle Knowlden
"You have no heart." Surrounded by politicos at the governor's party, the poet with fishhook eyes glared at me. I did not remember her. Had I been a patron? A critic? An enemy?
Published on May 19, 2016
by Stephen S. Power
Published on May 18, 2016
by Brenda Peynado
Published on May 17, 2016