“I am a ghost.”
“Where did you get that sheet?”
“I am a ghost.”
Humankind had never ventured this far into the unknown.
A single escape pod drifted listlessly through intergalactic space.
“Your compensation for today is 200 credits and five minutes.”
At the completion of another exhausting shift, Joaquín pushed his way toward the exit of the lithium processing facility.
Twelve hours of battery production had left him with fresh burns from the various mechanized elements of the facility and reeking of brine.
A tired couple stepped up to the ticket window in the Fairbanks Depot. Their appearance was unusually disheveled and fatigued.
“We need two tickets to Anchorage,” the man croaked.
The creature struggled free from wet newspaper and slipped out onto the kitchen linoleum.
Dinner guests returned to the refrigerator for alcohol.
The door was left ajar.
This flash fiction originally appeared in Fictional Pairings — August of 2017.
“We know you’re angry over your death.”
Inexplicable difficulties at the extraction facility had resulted in a tentative abandonment.
Human presence on Mercury would cease.
“Only five percent of those treated will experience the undesired transformation.”
After custodians had thoroughly cleaned the examination room, a new cohort of patients was ushered inside.
The doctor followed. He hurriedly explained the merits of inoculation.
Industry of the past becomes a springboard to the future! And the past (technically)! And parallel universes!
“This is a coal-fired time machine?”
“A coal-fired time machine doesn’t seem especially practical.”
Originally written under a pseudonym as responses to a prompt from Nano Horror (@tweetsthecreeps) under #nHorror, these 2017 tweets are taunts sent from a fictitious Pittsburgh serial killer – “Steel City Slayer” – to the police and media.