Cold Winter

frozen faucet

PHOTO PROMPT © Nobbinmaug

Grandpa Ted was grousing to himself how kids these days didn’t know how to unscrew and drain a hose before the first freeze when he stopped mid-complaint.

“Now how the heck did that faucet get left on and how did flowing water freeze?”

He recalled old photos of Niagara Falls frozen over but it sure hadn’t been that cold last night over at his son’s house, even with snow on the ground.

He fumbled his smartphone out of his pocket, took a look at the news, and then laughed. Of course those damned politicians were denying the next ice age.

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The Day After

blue fountain

PHOTO PROMPT © Nancy Richy

“You must accept this as the good,” shouted Bel as he forced Zad’s head under the fountain’s surface. “I was victorious and I am the messenger of light and goodness.”

He struggled to hold Zad beneath the surface but his hands had been made strong and the preternaturally blue waters gave him power. Bel felt the life beginning to leave Zad as he heard the mighty roar from his adoring followers surge behind him.

“Let him go.” The voice was tiny but still audible. “You said you were kind and merciful.”

“Only to my fans,” gloated Bel as Zad died.

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Tilting at Windmills and Smartphones

seascape

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

“Maybe the hardest thing in writing is simply to tell the truth about things as we see them.” —John Steinbeck—

“Who wants musty old courage and heroism in the flashy information age, eh, Jeffy?” the old man complained.

“I’m eleven, Grandpa. Don’t call me Jeffy,” answered the boy.

They sat on the rocks watching shallow waves roll to shore.

“That damn thing programs you to believe what the government and the corporations want you to believe,” Grandpa continued.

“It tells me who the bad guys are,” insisted Jeff.

“Smoke and mirrors,” said the old man. “It touts bias as fact and squashes critical thinking.”

“You’re saying information is bad?” asked Jeff.

“I’m saying being programmed isn’t the same as learning.”

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Let’s Start Over

light

PHOTO PROMPT © Nobbinmaug

“As if I haven’t lost enough sleep already,” complained Theo throwing off the bedcovers. Old, thin legs shook when he stood but indignation steadied him as he pulled on his robe.

“Three damn seventeen in the morning and where is that obnoxious light coming from?”

In spite of blackout shutters over his windows, piercing rivers of brilliance continued to stream inward and from the west.

Flat feet flapped on wood floors and then concrete as he stomped outside to solve the luminous mystery. He stared at it hearing the words, “We got the dinosaurs and now we’re back for you.”

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Go A’Hunting In The Kitchen

narrow kitchen

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“What a horrible kitchen.” Axel padded past the bookshelves to his left. Then his eyes flickered up and around. “Poor old sod,” he thought. “No storage so he has to stuff pots on top of the cabinets.”

He heard a hiss and then saw the gas stove had been left on. Axel held his noosed pole in one hand so he could turn down the heat.

“No good having this boil over,” he murmured. “Now where could he be hiding?” The trapdoor over the bookshelf rattled. “I’m coming for you, Wilbur,” said the pest control guy to the escaped python.

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I Don’t Know If It’s Art, But I Know What I Like

muddy bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Crime scene tape fluttered behind them as Detective Artemis Siku crushed another cigarette underfoot.

“Contaminating the crime scene?” Quinn Healy was new in forensics but still didn’t mind irritating the detective.

“Bet you think that’s mud.” Siku slowly exhaled a cancerous breath.

“Bet you think that’s feces,” countered Healy.

“That would be a lot of s…” Siku began to say.

“Blood,” Healy interrupted. “Just like the other four murders.”

“You’re sure the notes we’ve been getting are from the perp.” Siku reached for another smoke.

“He’s not in it for the killing,” replied Healy. “He likes making graffiti in blood.”

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The Anthology “Relics, Volume One” is Available Now!

cover

Cover art for the anthology Relics, volume one.

RELICS, Volume 1, a fourteen-story anthology of independent science fiction and fantasy, is available in paperback now. The collection was curated by Heidi A. Hill, L. Jagi Lamplighter, and Michael Finney in coordination with Based Book Sale.

The fourteen stories are organized into three sections — The Ruins, The Remnants, and The Restored — around the idea of the relic as an object that endures for a reason. Settings range from a mythic West and 1929 Chicago to a war-torn Italian town, the Sinai, the North Sea, a glacier at the end of the world, a rogue planet, and a relic found on Mars. The contributors move freely between science fiction and fantasy rather than staying inside a single genre. The anthology grew out of the Based Book Sale community and carries its name with the blessing of the sale’s creator, Hans G. Schantz.

Features my science fiction short story, “Legacy of the High Sojourner.” Here’s an excerpt:

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Return of the Knight

sandra's castle

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

“Maybe the hardest thing in writing is simply to tell the truth about things as we see them.” —John Steinbeck—

Gawain, dressed in a forest green coat, stopped for a moment to admire some scarlet flower petals. The castle Hautdesert, now reduced to a tourist attraction, stood before him stirring lost emotions.

It was a bit early for the plebian crowds, but the main entrance was open for business. The tall man of green mourned silently at how the legends of old had been reduced to children’s tales.

Paying the fee in modern script, he quickly deviated from the visitor’s path to the hidden chamber where the sword Galatine could be found. With this, he would defeat England’s terrible invaders.

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End of Summer Musings

public pool

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“End of summer,” said Manny standing at his apartment’s patio railing. “They’ll be shutting the pool down soon. Good. People are so noisy.” He scanned up and left. “Whatever they’re doing on the side of that building looks dangerous.”

He took a sip of his coffee and continued to survey the familiar scenery.

“I really need to live someplace without neighbors,” he mused. “I’d like more privacy.”

The serial killer knew the buildings that served the public pool were vacant in winter but still too close to the street to serve as kill rooms plus moving the bodies was hazardous.

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Ending the Unending Tea Party: An Adventure

sign

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

“Which way should we go, Mikey?” Exuberant six-year-old Sarah held the young man’s hand while hopping up and down.

“You don’t even know how to read yet,” said her nine-year-old sister Spring in mock disdain.

“I can read some words,” pouted Sarah.

“We’re here for an adventure, said Mike encouragingly, “not to argue, okay?”

The sisters grudgingly agreed with their favorite uncle.

“Don’t tell her what the red sign says,” insisted Spring.

“I know what T-E-A says.” Sarah stuck her tongue out.

“A tea party sounds like fun,” said Mike. “Let’s see if we can ‘unmurder’ time at this one.”

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