DEVIL’S PEAK – begin: here
The trees creaked, as if an enourmous weight moved on top of them. The sky was stilll bright but caught amber on the west side. We should hurry. No birds chirped. The longer we had our feet on the trail, the quieter the forest got.
I could barely hear Ennoia and Meme. Frank was right behind me, patting his side. Our breathing and our feet on the dirt were mostly the only sounds. As unsettling as it was, my rookie was gave me the wrong vibes. His mind was somewhere else. He moved far too cool, at least he should be nervous by now.
The skin on my nape burned. The thought that he had brought his hunting knife along, without telling me, was infuriating. I told him to talk to me, to tell me everything. How many times- wait a minute. Oh, hell. If he brought a nameless blade… This was dangerous. Continue reading “Names for Blades”
The boat rocked heavily.
That made me trip, not the whiskeys, nor the pills or the beers. Cross my heart! The railing was cold and wet under my grip, and for a moment, I wondered if I should let go of it. The stupid pink rabbit ears slipped and went bye-bye. They took a dive into the big black hungry Hong Kong Bay. Maybe I should jump straight after them, and end this farce. Continue reading “The New Year of the Rabbit”
I had Allan’s notebook tucked away in my overcoat. The chain on my lapel glowed in the miserable street light. The gas flame hissed like a feral cat. It barely chased away the darkness, or the autumn fog carried in with the wind from the Hudson.
I popped the chased golden lid of my pocket watch under the glow. The dial showed 10:30 pm. Time to wind up, my gloved fingers twirled the key clumsier than usual. It smelled like it would snow.
Continue reading “Triangle of Uncanny”
It was a proper summer day, sun laughing from the sky. In the afternoon, it turned sweltering.
The leather bag dug into my sore left shoulder. The chili dog from earlier rebelled, and pressure settled in my stomach. The weather made it hard to breathe. A sure sign, I was getting old, and tired after a late lunch break.
It never bothered me before, whether the heat nor the chili.
The Pied Piper ice truck lurched in the street. Its jingle drowned out the barking dogs. The ice cream was the second-best solution to this blistering heat. The best waited for me in my fridge, a chilled beer and five of its buddies. Continue reading “Postman”
My nastiest hangover is mainly the minister’s fault.
Unlike any usual stiff diplomatic, Minister Kagekamui is an outstanding man, with more secrets up his sleeve, than stars in the sky.
He catches me one winter night, at a poker table, with the foxes and the tanuki. It is the middle of my underground shift, and I’m supposed to be on the watch for rogue magical entities, not playing transformation poker with them. But it is such a beautiful night, and Consul Kitsune has his 31st birthday party. Continue reading “Magic Entities Liaison”
Oz takes the bandages from my new prosthetic hand and sets the new parameters for my fine motor skills. Try. Obediently I clench and unclench my fist. Feels weird. The hand sweeps accidentally to the right, nearly smashing the coffee cup from the table Oz calls office. He gives me painkillers. He forgets I can switch my sensory input off. Probing the feel of it, I do some exercises. The movements are grainy.
Next time I print you a better one. He sighs. Has to suffice for now. The feeling of a doubled limb glitches through my arm and head. Oz calls it phantom limb. You’ll get used to it. I disconnect the sensors, and reconnect. There is no pain at all, just this sensation of a vague hand dragging me across movement. Continue reading “med bay snippet #5”
dangers of underserved power – a chuck wendig prompt
I wave a cheeseburger in front of the animal. The chimpanzee observes carefully. He nods vigorously, showing teeth. His ears flap. Chuck’s the only chimp I know to prefer burgers over bananas, or fruits, or gummy bears. He’s a primate in every way.
Probably I could bribe him with booze and cigarettes too. Nearly a human…
I point at the screen. The pattern is so slow, that even the stoned biology student catches up. Continue reading “space monkey mafia (1)”