D.S.T.

Our test of CesiumApp (Sync Your Devices to The Nanosecond!) launched at 2am, the end of Daylight Savings Time.

But somehow when the clocks fell back, so did we, snapped to wherever we’d been one hour before. We showed up again in the conference room, greedy with foreknowledge. Kyler sold airline stocks short, profiting from a plane explosion. I bet Australian rugby winners.

We waited anxiously for next 2am when an explosion blew the doors open. A hideous half-human encrusted with growths like lichen gasped “butterflies” in a familiar croak, leveling a rusted revolver.

I’d always been handy with guns.

From Guest Contributor Clay Waters

The Pit And The Stone

A mere glimmer of light reflected off the patches of clammy wall not occupied by greasy lichen and water-laden moss as he hung awkwardly upside-down, blood rushing to his head.

The darkness was dank and oppressive, and he began to wonder exactly what bacteria or even viruses he might pick up fulfilling this bucket list item. Well, he could blame no-one but himself.

He twisted a little and stretched, bracing himself against the other wall, slipping a little on the slimy algae.

A furious voice drifted down from above “If he doesn't kiss the damn Blarney soon, I'm letting go!”

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Neglect

Lichen and moss had made their home on the intricately carved headstone while a ravenous community of ivy sought to embrace it.

The man wondered who Charlotte was. All the superficial dedications were there, though the surname was hidden. Who had she been? Was there no family to visit and maintain the plot...or did they believe in allowing it to age as naturally as their progenitor?

He crouched and pulled back some of the thicker growth from the bottom.

“...leaving behind...”

He read the names. One was unusual, like Gran’s.

He brushed ivy aside.

The surname was his own.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Whimsy

The statue of young Buddha had been an exemplar of serenity when first placed under the tree. Time had passed. Wars had come and gone. Nutrients and sun had been converted into growth by the woody plant’s armoury of respiration and generative processes.

Aashi grinned widely at her discovery. The base of the tree had grown around and in front of the old idol, seemingly intent on squeezing it silly.

She looked closer. Through some trick of lichen growth, the once droopy eyelids and superior smile had been transformed into an expression of squashed distress.

Her tinkling laughter wasn’t malicious.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

The Loyal Dog

There is a shrine on a small Pacific island that was intended to be an agnostic memorial saluting the bravery and sacrifice on both sides. So many years have gone by, however, that memories of that battle have become obscured, much as the shrine itself has been weighed down by lichen and neglect.

People still visit the shrine and leave tributes. They aren't for the fallen soldiers, but for one particular dog who remained on that spot for ten years after his master was killed. He is remembered as the loyal dog and people mourn him more than any soldier.