I try to turn my head -- the only part of my body that is merely restrained rather than actually strapped down tight -- to look my neighbor in the eye, but the juddering of the transporter in the outer atmosphere stops me. "How did they get you?" he repeats, shouting over the hollow thud of the craft surfing the mesosphere.
Miquel stood on the steps of Saint Sebastian’s pushing vials of ‘god’. He held a baggie up in front of his two customers, Bible Boys from one of the havens on the surrounding hills. They had pulled up in a red sports sedan that probably belonged to one of their daddies.
Ask any schoolchild who the first victim of the Besynian Revolution was and they'll say Cube Atticus. Because that's what the history books tell us; that's what Cube Atticus' grave marker says: First to Fall for Freedom. And it's true in the sense that all sophistry is true. As with all stories, it depends on who's doing the telling.
aim the ears; angle the orbitals | toward the deep field | for echoes
By the fifteenth month of the drought | the lake no longer hid her secrets
By Nora Weston - unexplainable. exasperating, too, as he breathes life into Carrara marble, skilled like a clone of Michelangelo.
To Jules Verne | By Gene Twaronite - Dare I follow the cryptic runes of Saknussemm, descending into the shadow-kissed crater to follow unknown tunnels to the center?
by Calie Voorhis - Seems to me some days I should dust the dirt off these battered boots, put on my finest blue dress, and skip down the Way...
by K. Eisert - Senator Heidi Montoya studied the man clad in an orange jumpsuit and shackled to a chair. A guard lifted the black bag from his head.
by Walter Dinjos - There is a reason the mirrors kiss the walls. When my late wife nailed the oakwood-framed one next to my bathroom, she called it a reminder of how far we've come.