Tall Red Letters

Something creeps through the blackness.

Tomi, like any half-smart student of the university, has a charged flashlight in her backpack in the event that she needs to brave the tunnels, but since she made that left turn, she’s used it sparingly.  Things get dark early down here.  She’s not even sure it’s Tuesday anymore.

The Something shuffles around a corner.  She gives it a few seconds, then tries the light.

The graffiti in the depths is creative.  She’s seen poetry and murals, and at least one reference to cake. In front of her now, in tall red letters: HI TOMI.

Malloy

April 31

Have made contact with Captain Hart, who will be guide/security chief for expedition.  Gruff man, prone to moody silences.  I am told by one of the crew that he lost a son on last voyage.

Two days in this cave and already I miss the air.

Have developed minor obsession with checking instruments.  Everything is fine everything is fine everything is fine.  Ivan says it’s normal.  I see him sharpening his blades every few hours.

The heat from the passageway is dull, throbbing.  At night, I can feel it across the chamber.  Its red glow creeps in everywhere.

Heart

A first class suite on Emirates, and she still feels cramped.  There’s nothing good to watch, and her martini has too much vermouth in it.  She squirms, fidgets, and finally goes to the washroom, just for something to do.

Door locked, she takes out her compact and uses the laser to cut the vent bolts.  The guy in 4B isn’t civvie and he’s made her; she needs an upper hand.  Into the crawlspace she slithers, heading for cargo, shedding her travel clothes like dry skin.

She’s stuck somewhere over economy when she realizes the extra vermouth was a slow-acting poison.

Jimmy Gives Up On Mission to “Read All the Books in the World”

After just two years, 13-year-old Jimmy Schmultz has announced that he is giving up his mission to read every book.

“There’s too many,” he said in a press conference given yesterday from the top of his bunk bed.  “I’m really proud of what I accomplished, but it’s a monumental task.”  Jimmy denied allegations that the stop was related to the time when Brad called him a bookworm, saying that it was a personal decision.

“Plus there’s this girl I like,” he added.

When asked what he would do next, Jimmy said he was hoping to “watch some movies, or something.”

Rules

There were old, unbreakable rules in the Patchwork City, and some of them had to do with regime changes.  Rules old enough that most didn’t remember how they went.

The city had settled into a calm, the eye of a hurricane with the air crackling.  It had been a long time since one of the Bosses had been killed.  Longer still since one had gone missing.  After a few days, both sides realized they didn’t know what to do.

Chad was sitting at a lunch table.  His knuckles itched.  He stood up.

“We’re gonna find the Rulebook,” he said flatly.

New Schedule

So, I’m going to cut back to five days a week, see if I can get ahead again.

The stories will resume on Monday.

Hum

They drop out of the sky like bombs and weave between the high stalks, pollen falling around them like bright summer snow.  Ryold shrugs his lance higher.  His hummingbird’s wings churn the air into blur.

They fall into formation for the approach.  Briawn, his second, shouts at him through a leaf-cone.  “What’s the twenty on Gold Squadron?” she bellows.

“They should be coming in a few seconds before us.  Eyes open.”

There is a calm, the canopy of flowers beautiful in the sun.

Then the fray, into the clearing, and the air thickens with buzzing.  Above, the Hive looms.

Kylie

Kylie’s sled is fucking awesome.

She’s slicked the runners, imported a high-grade low-friction experimental plastic from Japan or something, and then covered that in grease.  The rudder is an inverse sharkfin and it’s got this sweet bite.  She can turn, like, on a half a dime.

But the thing on the back is the real moneymaker, a pneumatic rifle refitted to fire snowballs.  She can lock and load thirty, but for the real long hills, there’s a scoop at the side for ammo.

When they get to the race, Mona looks at the competition and says, “You overdid it again.”

Steel

You come out of the chute in a roll, land in a ready stance, instinctively sweep the room.  The stone floor is slick, and the air feels thick, oily.

“Come out here please,” purrs a voice.

You step out light, on the balls of your feet.  A woman in a business suit with a clipboard nods, checks something off.  “We’re interested in your problem solving skills.”

The lights come up on a long, steely hallway.  Unseen motors spool up, and shiny blades spin along the walls, the floor, the ceiling.  There’s a distant, animal roar.

“Take your time,” she says.

Sharon

Sharon woke up.

She flailed against the sheets, kicked them off so they didn’t try to smother her again.  The walls blurred and fuzzed and then settled into the shapes of her room.  Steph sat in a rocking chair by the window, something hidden in her hands.

“What’s going on?” asked Sharon.

“Way, way too much,” Steph breathes.  She doesn’t look at her.  “There’s something coming, Shar.  And something else’s already here.”

“Why are you here?  I haven’t seen you in months, and then you -”

“Things are breaking down, Shar,”  Steph turned, her eyes starry black pools.

Sharon woke up.