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The Squeak

free-fiction-the-squeak

I had this squeak in my shoe that really drove me insane.

At first, I didn't notice it much. Maybe I'd be walking down an echoing hallway or passing though some quiet area. Suddenly, I'd become aware of the squeak. It was a squelching, squishy sort of squeak, not overly loud, but subtly invasive. On carpet, it sometimes sounded as if the rug’s fabric was soaked through with some viscous or unclean liquid, making me want to see if I needed to clean the bottom of my shoe.

After the first few months, I began to notice the squeak more and more frequently.

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The Guns

scifi-story-guns

Ted decided to jump ahead one month at a time, reporting back after each mission. Up through July, six months from when he was assigned to the project, things on Earth looked pretty normal, even boring. On Ted’s seventh trip, to August, he noticed a strange whining sound as soon as the time machine started up. He ignored it and set a beach in Australia as the machine’s destination. He’d never been to Australia before.

A bright flash in the sky caught his attention. Ted frowned and squinted upward until he picked out a strange light in the sky. The light resolved itself into three lights. Then five. Then fifteen. Forty. He lost count.

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All Hail Autumn

free-sci-fi-story

“Director T’Kar?” Gogar shouted. His words echoed through the system monitoring hub before finally reaching their target. “I think we have a serious problem.”

The large, grey-skinned creature in the center of the room roared and stomped his way toward the source of the voice. “What is it this time?”

Gogar waved a webbed appendage at a series of angry red dots on one of the bright screens before him. “It’s the HS.SolMW virus again.”

T’Kar grunted, a sound loud enough to make Gogar jump in his chair. “Great. Just great.”

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Shishkosh

food scifi

Today, here on Eustachia, it’s a different ballgame altogether.  First of all, they don’t eat anything they can cook.  My guard in his white apron serves me Eustachian wafers at prescribed intervals.  Though they come in different flavors, I’ve yet to distinguish any difference between them.  Imagine a piece of hide from a zulkof, maybe a baby zulkof (if you’re lucky), that you chew and chew and chew, turning it over in your mouth again and again, sucking down the juices, before finally—if you’re a foreigner like me—spitting it out in sheer fatigue and boredom.  One thing I must say for it: it does kill the appetite and stall the cramps for a while.

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It's That Season

free-horror-stories

Harley reached for Zombie-Elsa’s long blonde braid and tugged, her smile impish.

“Quit it.” Zombie-Elsa adjusted her wig in the mirror. “You’re on Mom’s bad side for your slutty costume, so don’t push your luck.”

“It’s not slutty,” Harley Quinn said, surveying her appearance. “It’s true to the comic. You’re just jealous I picked it first.”

The undead snow queen ignored this. “Hurry up. We’re supposed to meet them in ten minutes. It’ll take longer just to walk there.”

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