Timothy slouched, his elbows pressing into his legs were the only things keeping him falling off the bench. He’d never been so exhausted.
History Bygone
Barely noticing the ticking, whirring, and plumes of mist surrounding me, I sat with my hands on either side of the device. No matter how I stared, the glass remained dull. This wasn’t possible.
Rodents and Cowards
I rubbed my eyes, trying to get them focused. Who knew rodents could cause such a ruckus? My boots thudding as I swung my feet onto the desk. Thankfully that was over.
Ripples
Happy New Year! With the first being on a Wednesday, this year we’re kicking off with flash fiction on the first day. Here’s to a new year of stories. I glanced at Thomas. He’d look exceptionally calm to others, but I saw the tension. His hands gripped his cane too tightly. His shoulders were drawn…
WIthin the Music
Don’t be afraid. Come with me.
Janis bolted up, clutching the thin blanket. Gulping air, she forced the tune from her mind. A tune baring words only she’d heard within the music. Others shifted in the dark dorm adding creaking springs to the chorus of snores. Beyond was the constant hiss of steam moving through the machinery.
Trading Places
“Oh no.” Ollie crossed her arms and glowered at Timothy Morrow. “I ain’t taking the blame for this one.”
Names and Strangers
Josephine Maria Ziegler sniffed and turned her head to stare pointedly out the window. Ollie rolled her eyes at Josephine. So much for their first class arrangements. Their private train car had become semi-private. Ollie watched the man and was far less put out than her travel companion.
Built for This
Happy Labor Day! I hope everyone has had a great day and gotten whatever play, work, or new vistas they desire. Today I have a bit of holiday story for your enjoyment. The forge crackled a counterbalance to Lem’s clanging. Broad shouldered and thick legged, the work was a good fit for him, and a…
For Peace
Irving leaned over the contraption, tracing the mess of pipes and gears. Finally, it was ready. Grabbed his torch, he ignited it into a hissing flame. As he lowered the torch to reservoir the door banged open loudly. Jerking, Irving singed away the connecting wire and the gears collapsed.
Mad
Mist drifted through the air as Tilley was marched into the room. Turning her head, she coughed in the goon’s direction. Thomas Brijesh looked up from his workbench, his monocle enlarging his eye garishly. He blinked and tucked the instrument away pressed her into a seat opposite of Thomas. And kept pressing. “I’m down. I’m down,” Tilley said hunching over in the chair. However short they thought her was obviously overestimated.
