Hank And Bob Are Available To Accept Your Sacrifices

hank and bob

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

“I really hate these damn toys, Bob,” said Hank the propane barbecue on the left.

“Me too,” replied Bob, the one on the right. “They make too much damn noise and that motorized one is especially irritating. Kids should not be disturbing the sanctity of the backyard.

“Shall we consume them?” Hank asked eagerly.

“Won’t they melt and gum us up?” observed Bob.

“Hadn’t thought of that,” said Hank. “How about flamethrower action?”

“Yeah!” They opened their mouths and threw out white-hot flames of destruction.

Hours later, the firefighters had put out the blaze much to Hank and Bob’s chagrin.

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Junk Food Dragon

wall

PHOTO PROMPT © Fleur Lind

Twelve-year-old Warren finally stumbled into the clearing. He was tired of Jean and Bobby complaining that the treasure map he took from the trunk in Grandpa’s basement was bogus.

“I told you we’d find it,” he said.

“Find what?” asked Jean panting. “It’s just a wall and a bunch of junk.”

“Wait,” cried Bobby. “A giant keyhole with dragons on either side.”

“Fake dragons,” Jean smirked.

The brick wall flexed like plastic and they heard a gigantic burp. Out popped an old bird fountain.

“Excuse me,” said the dragon’s voice from inside. “I ate too much junk food last night.”

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Aftermath in the Shadows

Roger's window

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Anthony put on his robe as he left the bedroom. Vague lights from the Brooklyn Bridge outside his window passed through the shades casting macabre shadows across the living room.

He sat heavily onto his grandfather’s old upholstered chair and let himself enjoy the fatigue that came over him after making love to Dolingren. She was not an easy woman to be with but the joys most often outweighed the anguish.

Even at this late hour, the sound of traffic came into his apartment unabated. It was life. The vampire in his bed was death but she was also ecstasy.

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The Food and Selfie Wars

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

“I told you I’d only come to dinner with if you wouldn’t take pictures of your food like the paparazzi chasing a movie star!” Ed was on his feet fuming at the four other people sitting around the table.

“Look,” started Martin, “I’m sorry. I just forgot.” He tried disarming Ed’s temper with a shy smile. “Just let me get in this quick shot and post it to Bluesky.”

“That’s it!” Ed reached behind him and under his jacket producing a really nasty looking .45 semi-automatic pistol. He aimed it right at Martin’s smartphone starting the Food and Selfie Wars.

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Pre-order “Ruins: A Space Opera Anthology” Today

ruins

Promotional image for the anthology “Ruins.”

Ruins: A Space Opera Anthology is on pre-order now through the end of May. The anthology was created by Matt Herron and along with twelve other tales, includes my 12,000 word story “Sunrise.”

A large sleeper ship on a mission to colonize a far-distant planet is pulled off course awakening the command crew. The vessel is in the gravitational field of a highly unusual solar system, one where the star has been modified to be a thruster pulling the entire system with it toward the edge of the galaxy. What’s worse, for months, the ship’s AI has been in contact with an alien intelligence from that system which is surrounded by thousands of asteroids, shepherd objects guiding the system’s course.

Captain Art Cuevas and his crew use a shuttle to travel to one of the shepherd objects trying to get some answers, especially now that they’re too far away from their original destination to get to it before the ship’s fuel supply is exhausted.

What they find is startling and will either spell their doom or perhaps a new and unanticipated life.

Here’s a sample:

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Beneath Pale Stars

whatever

PHOTO PROMPT © Lily

John finally crested the alabaster rim of the crater after hours of climbing under the cold sun. He was sweating and couldn’t catch his breath in the thin atmosphere. He sat down on the edge looking downward, his chest heaving.

He said at last, “All wrecked.”

He’d been hoping that the Crater Base had at least one working spacecraft left, but they were crumbled and lying across each other as if they were toys mangled by an angry child.

“I’ll never get home,” he lamented looking upward at pale stars.

Then a voice came from one of the derelicts. “Welcome.”

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My Science Fiction Novel “A Wobblegong And His Boy” is a Number One Best Seller

a wobblegong and his boy

Cover image for my novel “A Wobblegong and His Boy”

Okay, with a caveat although it’s still pretty fantastic. As I write this, my YA science fiction novel A Wobblegong and His Boy is the NUMBER ONE BEST SELLER in Amazon’s Children’s Space Exploration books.

I wish that qualified me to say I’m a best selling author but this value can change on an hourly basis.

I looked it all up on Guide to Amazon sales rank: Best Sellers Rank (BSR).

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Phone Photography, Still Lifes, and Other Silliness

ted

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

“Dad, what are you doing?” Harold watched his father using his phone to take a photo of a collection of breakfast items and a tablet.

“Creating a still life,” Leonard said trying to hold his smartphone with one hand and maneuver his thumb.

“Uh huh,” replied his son. “I thought that was done with a bowl of fruit, a canvas, and oil paints.”

“This is the digital age, Harold,” Dad replied pressing the button. “Oh, now you did it. I didn’t get the framing right.”

“Digital photography is forgiving, Dad.” Harold rolled his eyes and went back into the kitchen.

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A Nice Place To Visit

sailboat

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Do you ever miss it?” Aaron felt a little nervous asking Sarah that question. After all, she was a California native and it would be natural to miss her home.

“Not a bit,” she answered slipping her arm around his waist in response to his holding her.

They watched the lone sailboat just offshore in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s pretty but it’s not home anymore,” she said. “Everything’s changed and not for the better.”

“Expensive vacation for a couple of retired folks,” Aaron added.

“It was a nice visit,” she said. “Let’s go back to where we belong.”

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Someone Has To Be “Equityless”

pot

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The big, rusty pot on the top of the cabinet was everything that had ever been wrong with Henry’s life.

The state rated him as a “Standard” just like Mom and Dad, nothing horrible, nothing exceptional. He was the default an enlightened society blamed things on to prioritize other groups.

He was a Standard, so allowed one marriage, one career and one child. They were all Standard except Mao elected to retranslation camp to become prioritized as an Outsider N-5.

He rated a divorce after twenty years and in old age, everything the state valued was still out of reach.

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