The Brassy Blood

The following is a warning to all those who get bad mileage:

Out on the ocean, liquid misery

Kingdom of whale lords

Kingdom of spite

Beyond all freedom, right or knowing

Beyond all but winter, arrested night,

There is a bulwark of rock and metal

A stock of madness between sea and sky

That pillars the halls of mighty morning

That clothes the dry emperors in their lie

Out on the ocean, the laughter is growing

It dances on coastlines

It lingers in mists

The coal-hearted kobold has waited and waited

But soon will collect the blood payments we’ve missed

The Wind

When the wind began, we expected a black and thunderous storm riding down from the North on its top. That was three months ago. No rain. No clouds. Nothing but the wind.

The old men spoke of a similar wind, many generations ago, that ripped the soil off the earth faster than a hunter skins a rabbit. We ignored their cataclysms, but the wind continues beyond all reason.

Now, we are all lashed round trees and stakes to stop us from blowing away. There is no siren song, lilting in our ears. Just the wind, wearing away at our souls.

Famous Last Words

Stanley Ash paused at the doorway. As with everything, he wanted his departure to be appropriately dramatic.

"This may be the last time you ever hear from Stanley Ash"

The applause was polite. Stanley Ash knew instinctively he had underwhelmed.

He ignored the sycophantic drooling of his assistants. He rejected the escort back to his penthouse. He refused to utter a single word to anyone, and with a wave of his hand, emptied the room. He was silently composing his next speech, determined to win their hearts, not just their obedience.

Ironically, no one saw Stanley Ash alive ever again.

A Greener World

The children followed their teacher into the meadow where they had their classes.  Their school desks were the rocks of the field.  Their blackboard was the open sky.  The teacher stooped to touch the grass with both hands, signaling that the morning recitation was about to start.

“Our lives are connected with the Earth.  If it sickens, so do we.  To preserve all life, we must dedicate our own lives to sustaining the health of this planet, and to our Green Republic, which guards its gardens.”

Today’s lesson would teach the children how to report polluters amongst their family members.

How These Things Get Started

The group staggered out of the party, swaying violently towards the next bar. “Wait!” Janet said. “I have the GREATEST IDEA EVER!” They emerged from the tattoo parlor an hour later, fingers oozing blood. “Now our whole lives are stache bashes!”

Future history textbooks would be filled with pictures of the sinister curled mark. Some were on pennants flying above military parades. Others adorned young officers, their fingers outstretched towards state enemies. But, inevitably, the tattoos made them easy to find. As nations were brought to account, some pleaded that they hadn’t known.

But how could they not have known?

The Last Nail

Tat. Tat. Tat.

The tapping came in quick bursts. The blows were neither sharp nor strident, but in the absence of all other sound, they echoed in the silence.

Tat. Tat. Tat.

The carpenter was deft. Each nail hammered with economy of effort. If they were not perfectly straight, no human eye could discern a slant.

Tat. Tat. Tat.

As someone who prided himself on the careful attention to detail, it would have been a joy to watch such a master artisan at work.

Tat. Tat. Tat.

But I was too overwhelmed with dread. Which nail would be the last?

High And Dry

The manatee looked down upon us with regal wisdom. The deep folds in its weathered skin, some natural, some long forgotten scars of a life lived in perpetual danger, lent an aura of hidden knowledge. This Manatee was here to teach us, or warn us, or provide one last chance to mend our ways.

The audience continued to grow throughout the day. Most people heard the shrill calls and attributed some positive environmental message. To me, they sounded like shrieks of fear.

Scientists were never able to satisfactorily explain how a manatee got stuck at the top of that tree.

The Thaumaturge

Every morning, the dirty children that wandered the streets in search of easily obtained coin and crumb gathered. They did their best to stay out of sight, hiding behind shadows and around corners in the nearly empty lane. The neighborhood denizens prized the hour as the quietest of the day.

Griffin used the mornings to fashion that day's inventions. Afterwards, when the hard work at his forge was complete, and he had only to worry about entertaining his customers, the shop bustled, and the street outside resembled any other.

It was a dangerous thing, to watch a miracle being wrought.

In The Hall Of Magi

In the Hall of Magi, ballots were being counted. Never, in countless centuries of magical practice, had attendance been so high. The last hundred years, however, had been the worst. Spells, once isolated to nomadic shamans, were unstable in the growing metropolises. Magic, by nature, was exceptional, and it thoroughly resisted regulation. Even without some dark lord, how many villages were regularly lost to innocent prodigies of pyrokinesis? Families to inadvertently summoned demons?

The final vote was tallied; the expected result announced. Unanimously, the gathered had voted to break their staves. And so, by consensus, magic disappeared from the world.

The Shockingly True Exploits Of The Boy Who Panicked A Nation

When they built the dam, they said it would hold all the water. They said no one would ever be thirsty again. And they said it would never break.

Tommy was standing on the observation deck, thinking about dinosaur bones. All those dinosaur bones that would never be discovered because they lay at the bottom of the world's largest reservoir.

The crack occurred right behind him. He turned, and water was already starting to seep through. Tommy instinctively placed his finger over the crack.

The papers would later report Tommy decided dinosaur bones were more real to him than strangers.