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Short Story: There Is No Meriweather Thomas

Image by Arek Socha  from Pixabay   It was six in the morning and already I could hear voices outside.  Not wanting to move the curtains, I peered through the slit in the center.  There they were, with their vans and cameras, notepads and microphones, swarming the sidewalk like ants that have found the remnants of a chip bag.  Sliding back into the darkness of the living room, I dialed a number that I knew by heart.  It rang through to the voicemail and I hung up.  Before I could dial again, my phone lit up. “Hello?” “It’s May 19 again, isn’t it?”  He had a drawl that lulled you into thinking of iced tea and buttered corn. “Meriweather, I don’t know why, but they’re here at my house,” my pulse jumped in my neck, pulsing against the hand that held the phone. “Don’t you watch the news?  It’s the thirtieth anniversary of the LEAP disaster.”  There was the jingle of a belt buckle. “Where are you?” “Well, I was in bed.  Now I’m putting m...

Short Story: Blue Mana

  Charlotte was gazing through a set of field glasses.  Even at five times the size, the people looked like ants.  She tried to count them as they swarmed over and behind the sand dune.  There were more than six, at least two were armed, and three were engaged in water summoning. An arm snaked around her waist, legs kicking hers from behind.  Without thinking, Charlotte drew manna into her hands, releasing it through her fingers with a crackling pop.  Her assailant jittered, then dropped, pulling her with him onto the shale. “Coulda seen who it was first, Charlotte,” the man panted.  Like her, he had tan skin and curly hair, and like her, he wore a belt tooled with storm clouds. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, Rossi,” she pulled away from him.  The added heat of his body was unbearable. “See anything good?” “Yeah, you?” “Nope.” “There’s three Mages summoning water over by that dune,” Charlotte pointed. “How’s that good?”  Rossi sat up, blo...

Short Story: The Ugly Planet

  Bard watched the ship dock, her whiskers twitching with curiosity.  It was a small ship, faceted like a sapphire, but a deeper blue.  It had the dust of a ship that had been in deep space, but other than that, it should have been unremarkable.   Unremarkable to anyone other than Bard.  She adjusted her hat and raised her arms, “Ladies and everybody, I will tell you a tale of tragic love.” The ladies were too busy being fashionable to heed Bard, but she did succeed in attracting the attention of some of the others.  They gathered around her, a crowd of different species.  “Tell us, Bard of felines,” called out an android. “Once upon a dying planet, a halfling adventurer set out.  He left his promised hamlet, his love in a redoubt,” Bard watched the ship, her mind far away from the words springing from her furry lips. The door to the ship opened and a set of steps was brought to the door. “He thought to find his fortune, to make a nest for th...

Short Story: It (Almost) Happened

Image by  PublicDomainPictures  from  Pixabay “Let’s dump it all in,” Ryan held up the test tube of sodium hydroxide. The fluorescent light glinted off his safety goggles making him look like a mad scientist. His unruly curls and intense eyes completed the look.  “Ms. Crenshaw said that we should add it slowly,” Booker grabbed the other tube filled with vinegar.  Why, oh why did the teacher let them pick their lab partner today?   “But that wouldn’t be fun!” Ryan tipped the test tube into the beaker of water.  Why, oh why were they friends?  “She’ll fail us,” Booker grabbed Ryan’s gloved hand. Ryan, being the larger of the boys, resisted.   “So? Don’t you wanna know what happens? I bet it explodes!” Ryan stopped pouring, “Dude, you’re like holding my hand. I didn’t know you felt that way.”   Booker pulled his hand back and stared longingly across the lab. His assigned lab partner, the girl he usually worked wi...

Short Story: Lift Ticket for One

Things were fine.  The air was crisp and icy.  If Russell looked down, he could see his skis, red against the treetops.  Everything was in a hush except for the grinding of the lift. It was fine.  Skiing was fun. A wind blew and his vision blurred.  The sound of the lift increased, then he was nudged off the seat and onto the snow.  Majesty screamed at him, but he didn’t hear it.  All he could think of was the empty spot he had left in the lift behind him. “Look at this guy, he’s just standing there,” the voice was teasing. “Must be his first time.” They laughed. Russell gripped his ski poles.  Through his thick gloves, he couldn’t feel the bumps of the grip.  He couldn’t feel anything.  He was rising out of his body with the steam that rose out of his mouth.  He was melting into the snow underneath his feet.  He was slowing into a glacier, dying and being born.   The ski lift dropped off another pair.  A skier in a p...

Short Story: The Right Spell

Images from Pixabay The arena was half full, the noise of the crowd deafening.  From his vantage point, Kalendio Octavius could just make out the rough shapes of people.   “You’re new,” the voice came from behind him. Kalendio turned and squinted into the darkness of the hypogeum, “A woman, here?” She laughed, deep and throaty.  “Athene, venatora ,” she unsheathed her sword, “Slayer of lions.” “I am no beast,” Kalendio waved a hand in surrender. “What class are you?”  Athene looked him up and down, “I see no weapon.” “ Magia,” he was reluctant to say it.  Most people laughed, some even flashed him the fig sign. “Oooooh,” she popped a hand onto one hip, “Well, good luck out there.” There was a roar as he emerged from the tunnel, and for a moment he thought it was for him.  Smiling, Kalendio lifted his head. The man across from him was giant.  He wore full armor and carried a net and trident.  Kalendio’s smile tightened into a grimace.  “S...