Build A Love Story
How do you build a love story? You put a stack of books in the corner and then you set light to them. What books? Probably Herodotus, or maybe Shakespeare’s sonnets – something like that. No, you buy a lot of candy…
Category: Prose
Dirty Author
Hack the system – the planets weren’t just that – spherical matter deposits in gravity wells designed to hothouse life and move out to change the way that consciousness was distributed throughout the universe – but they were that also. What kind…
The Reconstruct
It’s interesting when you write a whole bloody post and it just ups and disappears, and even worse when it is killed by the software you have installed to save back-ups, because it drops a back up in on top of the…
Finding A Punchline
‘It’s weird, you know, you tell a story like it is created in some kind of vacuum, but you know it isn’t, so I don’t know why you insist on continuing the pretense that it is.’ ‘If you don’t maintain the notion…
Jack-alls
There’s something feeding on stories, following the story-lions around in their prides; some kind of scavenger pack, they’ve nick-named them jack-alls, because they seem to be some formed from some kind of undifferentiated ideational tissue. The Chief Headitor Spence was moving his…
Coast Modern
The crinkly edges of complexity are a fractal glitch of longshore drift. The son is a sun is a glowing nuclear ball that tucks and rolls like a pebble through the in and out of a tide that is taking a shore…
Red Wolf
They set light to the horizon with a tac-nuke – a slow burn destined to be the only source of light under a bruise black sky. Red Wolf One was in geosynchronous orbit forty eight hours later, and Alpha Dog was sat…
In The Buried Face Of The Gorgon
The face plate was non reflective; a dark empty hole where a face should have been. And the voice that emerged from behind it sounded like it had been dug up, a dusty dead thing that reverberated with the noise of a…
There’s A Mask For Everything
It wore her father’s face, and she didn’t mind. It wasn’t here to hurt her. Time had clogged in the throat of this place; history was giving it bad digestion – but a flower had bloomed in this room. ‘Your petals are…
Heat Synch
Her tongue traced a line from behind his balls to the tip of his dick. His wings unfurled, and he found himself starting to roll through a boot sequence, a foam of maths gathering in a layer above this one, Somewhere two…