The conversation lasted two words. Alien Origin.
The scientist was shot in the head after his pronouncement. The trail brought to a halt. The military chief hearing the evidence verified, used his own pistol and was returning it to his pocket and issuing orders for the body to be removed when he received a very unexpected call.
His wife. She knew not to ever call him at work. But from the tone of her voice after she had finally been put through, something was seriously wrong at home.
Ordinarily anything to do with his work, was the priority. But not...
Theo had had ENOUGH. Ever since he had married Julia, it had been vegan this and free range that. If he had to choke down one more organic graham cracker, he would slit his wrists. It wasn't Julia's fault; it was her mother's. That old witch had insisted on a completely organic, 60s hippie diet, and had dragged the whole family on board. Her husband, his father-in-law, had started sneaking bacon sandwiches when she went to play bingo., Theo, however, had no such break from the Diet from the Black Lagoon.Julia would feel so guilty if they snuck around behind...
"I think there's a problem with the design!" Clair blurted. The table of nerdy glasses and hazy schematics looked up one by one.
Burt suddenly took her by the arm, turning her slightly but firmly. "We're hours away from the prototype run and you think there's something we haven't considered?"
"It's the idea in general. If the particle resonance is what we think it is then why are we trying to counter the harmonics? I mean--what could that do to the very fabric--"
Burt collapses to a singularity point, everything in the room suddenly expanding at the edges and warping...
Deep beneath our feet lies a maze of tunnels, crypts, secret passages, large and small pipes, cables, each layer added over the centuries dependent on current needs. For most of us we would only consider water pipes from the bathroom, utility wires, sewage. Our ancestors needed secret ways to travel undetected, our enemies wanted places to hide.
Jim looked down at the blueprint of the basement, the house renovation had taken far too long. The cellar in the right hand corner didn't seem to exist anymore all he could find was a rusty metal trunk full of strange photos, black...
The rain had been pounding the east coast for days now. Floods crept closer to our compound, but for now, the levies held. For all intents and purposes, it was a good day. Just once, we had not had any incidents with any of our items. No alarms, no casualties, and no Class D riots.
But, we could only be lucky for so long.
It was late afternoon when the first anomaly appeared on the security screen in front of me. I only caught it out of the corner of my eye, but it was clear as day the second...
"Travel light, but take everything with you. No cases full of cuddly toys. No toys, in fact."
These were the terse instructions from my mother as I prepared to pack the contents of my life into one tiny, child-size suitcase, a suitcase barely big enough to accommodate a change of clothes, let alone anything sentimental, useful or practical. What on earth had possessed her to choose such a ridiculous object for such a momentous adventure? I couldn't even begin to think. It was completely unsuitable and my mother was usually such a meticulous woman. Nothing escaped her notice. The house...
I wasn't sure when I woke up what to do with my day. I mean, I like to be as productive as the next guy, but it was Freeform Friday. i didn't even really know what that meant, but I had it marked on my calendar.
So I decided my best move would be to go back to sleep. When I woke up at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, I realized that time was my villain. I'd slept away the entire day.
So now what? It's still light out, so I could work on some flash fiction.
I do not...
"It was just like all the others.
"Fear. Defense. Anonymity.
"Just enough of the subject's face had been blurred so we couldn't discern their identity. Another one of the Foundation's pieces of work, no doubt.
"It was just too much. Too many people had turned in photos like this. The same damn camera, and the same damn style. Always in the middle of nowhere, with one person fearing for their life, as if the camera itself were the entity attacking.
"There were other varying problems with this one, that the other pictures did not display. This subject's head was turned...
Stinkbombs ruined my perfect wedding night. The odious smell wouldn't leave me, even after a few days. I knew it was a sign, one of many I had been getting ever since I announced my engagement. Today was our fourth day in the paradise resort high in the mountains and John hadn't returned from hiking with the local guide we'd hired.
Of course there was a reasonable explanation. Lost track of time, minor accident, losing something, getting engrossed in a special flower or bird. He was into nature my John. Tall, very slim with blond wavy hair, striking blue eyes...
The gate closed behind them. That is what George wanted me to convey to his grieving son. I did not understand what this meant but it is part of the course of being a messenger for the dead. You don't really know the significance of what you are being told.
The worst part of all this was trying to tell people their loved ones want to them to know something. Many will be very rude to you, others will ignore you. The part of it I dislike the most is when you know they are so vulnerable they will misinterpret...