Some very short fiction that I originally wrote for Twitter!
The party of urban explorers pushed onward, despite the obvious signs of habitation inside the abandoned brickworks.
And the obvious signs of past violence.
The contents of one of the kilns were especially unsettling.
A set of very short fiction pieces that I originally wrote for Twitter.
“What was that?”
“The reactor is failing. One of us has to go inside. I don’t want to be stranded halfway to Proxima.”
“Why don’t you go?”
“I guess I should. Could I take the emergency firearm?”
The captain shook his head before speaking.
“I’ll go with you.”
***
“We can drive the Lunar Roving Vehicle left by Apollo 17 to reach the rendezvous point.”
“You know the batteries in that LRV were dead decades ago.”
“Let the children have some hope. We will probably be out of oxygen before we get to the LRV. Just let them hope.”
***
The flight recorder from the lost interstellar mission was recovered.
“And?”
“The crew appeared to believe they’d somehow returned to Earth.”
“Why?”
“That remains to be determined, but you’ll hear what sounds to be my voice and your own communicating with them.”
Imagine this arcade game is haunted. Who is haunting this and why?
A set of very short fiction pieces that I originally wrote for Twitter.
“Did we somehow bring a poltergeist with us?”
“Are you suggesting that some malevolent entity stowed away on our ship and traveled to Proxima Centauri with us?”
“Yes. And I’m also suggesting that entity will eventually learn to open the external airlock.”
A set of very short fiction pieces that I originally wrote for Twitter.
Just days after a nuclear holocaust devastated the planet, one family experienced a new woe.
“Please tell me you didn’t build our bomb shelter on top of a Native American burial ground!”
“No! I would never build on sacred ground!”
A femur fell from the ceiling.
A set of very short fiction pieces that I originally wrote for Twitter.
A disoriented man walked into the railroad station in Havre. He studied the route map for a moment before approaching the counter.
“This is Montana?”
“Yes.”
“I asked to be dropped off in Michigan.”
Solar radiation had taken a toll on Jimmy Hoffa. His skin peeled freely.
A set of very short fiction pieces that I originally wrote for Twitter.
The pestilence spread through rain, although the dynamics of this airborne contagion baffled speechless authorities.
The remarkable fatality rate spoke volumes.
The distressed and displaced flooded in Las Vegas, Phoenix, and San Diego, desperate to avoid the thunder.
