“Tell me a bedtime story, George.” Amy, seven years old, tucked herself into bed as she pleaded with her companion.
“It’s a little late, isn’t it?” George questioned, his voice stern.
“Pleeeease?” Amy smiled, exposing the gaps where her front teeth had fallen out.
“OK, fine.” George relented with a sigh. Amy squealed with delight and snuggled under her covers.
“Do you know your Earth history?” George asked.
“It’s the home of humanity.” Amy was keen to show off her knowledge.
“That’s right,” George continued, “and if Earth were still around, today would have been a solstice day. Do you know what a solstice is?” Continue reading “Amy”
The inhabitants of the planet Fele referred to themselves as ‘feisty’ and ‘passionate’; however, other member races of the United Planets called them bloodthirsty, belligerent, vain, and a little fragrant.
Through civil wars, blood feuds, and family disagreements, the planet Fele was an arid wasteland. Only after its inhabitants ran out of resources for their war machines did they finally band together to seek a solution.
Their answer? Invasion. A hostile takeover of another planet. Scientists were seconded from research into war machines and moved into the search for intelligent life outside the United Planets. The Fele could have moved on another planet within the UP, however no other known species had developed a brain which could host their intelligence. Continue reading “Fele”
Dayko, test pilot and youngest son of the Phan royal family, sat in quiet contemplation with his head resting on his knees. His perch at the peak of the palace afforded him views across the landscape in every direction. His next test flight – possibly his last test flight – was due to take place shortly, and Dayko took a deep, trembling breath. He raised his horned head and looked outside, reminding himself of the stakes involved.
Lightning flashed constantly across the sky of dark turbulent clouds, reflected in Dayko’s sad, red eyes. He noted the acid rains had ceased, for now, replaced by falling ash. Neither rain nor ash doused the burning oceans, however. In a desperate twist of fate, those plains of burning pollution, along with the constant flashes of lightning, provided the only light in a world where all forms of energy and industry had failed. Continue reading “Dayko”
From the moment they erupted into existence, Left and Right hated each other. The only thing they hated more than each other was their jail on the chest of their host. They despised being forced to co-exist.
Left was slightly larger, Right slightly perkier. Left hogged the bra, Right hogged the attention. Left was flawless, Right had a birthmark. Their hatred for each other, however, was perfectly symmetrical.
They performed their duties, of course, reliably and without complaint. There’s nobody to lodge a complaint with, after all. No Boob Arbitration Panel; no Nork Defense Group. Nobody ever campaigned for equal rights for tits. So Left and Right were stoic and accepted their fate. They let themselves be manhandled by the host’s dates. They supported pearl necklaces. They peaked over the top of tight dresses. They even caught food on occasion. The only function they recoiled at was feeding the host’s spawn. Continue reading “Not-So-Funbags”
Let’s do it… let’s shove that genie back into the bottle
But can we? These days, nothing can be completely undone. No action goes unrecorded. No data is irrecoverably deleted. Every movement leaves a trace. Smoke and mirrors cast shadows.
This particular genie had paid out generously, when first released from his ornate little prison. Booming populations were fed, nomadic societies settled in their own area, industries flourished, and class structures were formed. AGRICULTURE was a boon with a barb in his tail, however. As the population expanded, he just couldn’t keep up. Continue reading “Who Let The Djinn Out?”
The sticky message oozed down my freshly painted kitchen wall, blood contrasting nicely with the daffodil yellow I’d chosen at Bunnings. I placed the paint roller into the tray and stepped back, frustrated and shocked. The reason for my frustration? The wall was still wet. The reason for my shock? This entity can spell. More words appeared as I stared, a suitable look of horror planted firmly on my features.
The house is mime. Continue reading “Get Out!”
We’d saved for millennia for this meal. It took five centuries just to save the reservation fee. Now, finally, we had a table for two at the Restaurant of the Universal Mindscape, the product of the combined spare processing power of every human mind in the galaxy, all jacked into one stunning simulation.
Our table, labelled The Winners, had an uninterrupted view of the Aurora of the Feeble Minds beneath our feet. It was spectacular. The glow of the aurora lit us from below, and we could almost feel the warmth of the dying neurons. Continue reading “Sudden-Onset Boganism”
I won the eBay auction! the text read. Come check out my new sexbot! LOL
My blood ran cold. I adore my kiwi friend, Fester, but his tastes can be questionable. At the moment, our social circle is calling him the Cougar King due to his propensity for scoring with older chicks. I joke along with the others, poking fun at him, but secretly I’m jealous. At least he’s getting laid!
I rang the doorbell and waited. I’ve been here many times, so I can visualise the process happening inside. First, he has to change from frumpy house clothes into something sporty, probably lycra. Then he has to mess his hair stylistically. On his way to the door, he strews a few empty condom packets and pairs of female panties around the apartment… just for atmosphere, of course. Then a quick mist of his face with a spray bottle, making it look as though the visitor has interrupted him mid coitus. He opens the door, panting. Continue reading “Giddy Up, GG”
It was an idyllic dream, at first. The perfect city, an ideal home. I thought the tales had been made up by the locals, to scare off any stranger who dared enter the city and intrude on their lifestyle. Aussies do it all the time. Dropbears keep the numbers of American tourists to a minimum. The outback locals cultivate their inbred, murderous reputation to scare away backpackers. So why couldn’t an entire city spread stories of a monster with cold, crazy eyes, designed to protect their perfect peaceful existence from overpopulation?
But seriously… a creature so fearsome that Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees fled back to hell, embracing each other for warmth? Alien and Predator returned to their home planets to nurse their frostbitten wounds? Even Clive Barker’s cenobites avoid this pocket of humanity, deliberately ignoring all summons from any newly opened Lament Configurations in this city. The problem was, I never heard any stories about the hideous Beast of Jerryl Deen until after I’d already moved there – until it was too late. Continue reading “The Beast of Jerryl Deen”
Darkness descends as I trudge towards the vast, open plain. I place one bare foot in front of the other, not caring if I cut myself on a jagged piece of flint. I look down, not because I need to watch where I’m stepping, but simply because I cannot lift my head.
The sun is shining in the clear, blue sky, so I could see quite clearly should I look up. But I know the plain is devoid of any vegetation. No animals scurry over the rocks, nor swoop through the still air. Nobody will be blocking my path, trying to talk me out of this course of action. Continue reading “Going Home”
Turn right in eighty metres.
The metallic female voice of the GPS startled me. I glanced across at the hitch-hiker in the passenger seat, snoring softly. I’d picked him up half an hour earlier, damp with drizzle at the Twelve Apostles. He’d conversed, politely and gratefully, for a full five minutes before falling asleep. I turned on the radio softly to cover his snores, and cracked the window to allow the stench of his day-old sweat to escape.
Turn right in eighty metres.
Again with the unnecessary, annoying instruction. I scanned the road ahead, but there were no turns coming up. There was nothing except Great Ocean Road for a long, long time, and the intermittent sweep of my windscreen wipers. I shook my head… the crazy bitch is on drugs. Continue reading “Turn Right In Eighty Metres”
The university dorm room had a clear line of demarcation down the centre.
On one side, Thom sprawled naked across his unkempt bed, snoring loudly and drooling into his filthy sheets. Dirty clothes, pizza boxes, sporting gear, and mystery liquids obscured the floor, presumably a beige carpet. Underwear was draped across Thom’s laptop screen, used only for porn and youtube football videos.
The other side of the dorm room was pristine. Anderson did not identify as having OCD, but he did have a stick to push back the tide of filth from Thom’s half of the room which threatened his space. Anderson was sitting on his bed, back to the wall, arms wrapped around his knees. His bed was crisply made, and he struggled not to let his rocking wrinkle the sheets.
The two students were best friends. Continue reading “Precog”