When the nebula giants found the strange, dense orb drifting through their patch of space, they all passed it around and debated what it could be. Asteroids didn’t have those blinking lights, and comets weren’t so regularly shaped. One suggested it might be some machine to explore the stars. They even tried to plot out where it had come from. The other giants laughed at their foolish notions. Everyone knew that rocky planets were much too hot and close to their stars to support life. They came to no conclusion, and finally left the space probe to continue its journey.
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It was the perfect Homestead World, a rarity in the reachable galaxy. The sky was more mauve than blue, but the atmosphere was fresh and breathable. The Sun gave just right levels of heat and light. Even the gravity was perfect. The residents of an overcrowded Earth, hungry for adventure and opportunities in “the New West,” came in droves. The frenzied land grab only picked up speed when they found signs of prior habitation, fueled by tall tales of lost alien technology and ancient ruins. The nomadic aliens were unhappy to find their home infested with humans when they returned.
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He’d been in prison a few weeks before he started feeding the birds. There weren’t any songbirds out in that wasteland, just ravens and scavenger birds. But it was better than nothing. He saved a few breadcrumbs from his meager supper and left them on the cell’s tiny windowsill. The crows came and ate noisily, so he kept it up. Eventually, the crows returned the favor and brought him presents. They were junk: string, pebbles, and bits of razor fence that he hid from the guards. The other prisoners thought he was crazy until the birds brought him a key.
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Hello readers! It probably wouldn’t surprise you to learn that I like flash fiction. I love the punch and immediacy of a good story that gets in and out in under a thousand words, leaving you thinking about it long after you’ve gotten up from your chair. If you’re a regular reader to my blog, I’m betting you dig flash fiction, too. That’s why I’m backing the Small Wonders Kickstarter, and I hope you will, too! Small Wonders is a new planned Flash Fiction magazine edited by Cislyn Smith and Stephen Granade. The project already has an issue zero out as a proof of concept, which looks outstanding with contributions by John Wiswell, Premee Mohamed, Beth Cato, and others. You can view free content from the issue one their website. The kickstarter is reaching the end of its run, so you’ll have to act fast to get your copy and ensure that this excellent project reaches its goal. Rewards include subscriptions, physical or digital copies, bookmarks, pins and even hangouts with authors and editors. Small Wonders is such a worthy project. I’m excited to be backing it, and I hope you will too. I am not affiliated with the project, but I plan to submit some pieces there if it gets funded. The Small Wonders kickstarter ends on March 30, so don’t wait to pledge your support. You can donate to the kickstarter HERE.
Death looked at his latest mission and sighed, a sound like a mournful wind among gravestones. He considered pawning the assignment off on a lesser psychopomp. He could claim it was beneath his notice. But that would be a lie that his subordinates would see through. All deaths were important, even that of a kitten. It wasn’t that the death of an adorable creature was depressing. He didn’t get emotional about his job. When a cat lost all nine of their lives at once, he’d have to gather them all. He was going to be chasing kitten souls all morning.
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The king saw threats everywhere, bordered on all sides by greedy neighbors. To protect himself, he ordered that a grand fortress be built. The construction project took most of his life, and nearly bankrupted the national treasury, but as he sat behind his thick stone walls, he deemed it a worthy expense for true security. Now that he was safe, he sent messengers to his neighboring kingdoms and told them exactly what he thought of them. He knew that their armies couldn’t breach his castle. When the drought came, his cisterns failed. He had nobody to turn to for help.
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He wasn’t the best golfer to ever play the game, but he may have been the strongest. The power of his shots was unrivaled, breaking distance records and stunning audiences with the power of his swings. But he was banned from the professional circuit. A fan favorite, a debate raged across the sports world about what to do. But for as powerful as he was, he lacked finesse, which is what led to his downfall. The greenskeepers aligned to remove him from the sport, to prevent the scorched holes and craters he left in the rough and on the green.
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In today’s episode; Domon is that guy who won’t leave the party, Schwartz is James Bond, and Master Asia is temporarily old. Plus, this whole fight could’ve been avoided with good communication, and do flash bangs work on giant robots?
The mermaid sat on her rock and sighed. Out in the distance, a land walker ship passed. The surface dwellers didn’t believe in mermaids anymore. But she believed in them. They fascinated her. She loved how they built, explored, and innovated, unlike the undersea folk. She was sick of hiding, sick of dwelling in crumbling ruins and just following the currents. Most of all, she was sick of eating seafood. She craved red meat in her diet, and human was the best of all. She loved everything about them. She waved and sang, hoping this time she’d get their attention.
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The Sapphire resonated in the dragon’s presence. It leaped out of the adventurer’s hand and spun in the air. She smelled sea air as it transformed into a floating orb of blue water. The creature nodded. Its expression was unreadable. “Yes, this is a part of my essence. Wherever did you find it?” She smiled. “That’s my little secret. I’ll let you in, for the right price.” She attempted to pull the gem back, but her hand passed right through it. Suddenly, the dragon’s coils were all around her. “You may want to rethink your negotiation tactics,” the dragon said.
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Hugh J. O'Donnell 