Sunday, March 29, 2015



The identification of that mysterious liquid recovered from the landing site was correct. At first, no one believed Professor Grant. Then, when the matter started to break and beautiful blue lights fought their way out of the vials, everyone panicked. They called him back to a frantic lab. “What should we do?” they asked. The Professor knew there was nothing to be done. “Seal the base. Let’s hope for the best.” It took them a long time to connect the dots and find a way out. Many were left behind… fatally. However, the blue planet continued to be beautifully blue.

Sunday, March 22, 2015


Cica Ghost - LEA

Bits of paint came off the wall as Tim scratched it with his only nail. All the others had been chopped off by that wretched machine at the factory, along with two-thirds of the fingers they were attached to. That didn’t bother him though. He got used to it. He did miss his thumb. He enjoyed going thumbs-up, for some reason. The remaining intact finger was an index; it was useful for pointing, granted. However, the really big problem was not having a middle finger. He felt like his ability to… express himself had been hopelessly destroyed because of that.

Sunday, March 15, 2015



“South...?” the man said, but Peter’s sense of orientation relied much more on pointing and showing the way than cryptic instructions like North or South.
“Thank you,” he replied, trying to look savvy in the secret ways of… finding the way.
He walked aimlessly through white aisles, past the milk and butter shelves, the yogurts and some mysterious small bottles announcing they’d make anyone’s lazy intestines work just fine.
“South, huh? Why is it always so difficult to find someone who can give a clear, objective reply to a clear, objective question? Where are the bodies? It seems simple enough.”

Sunday, March 8, 2015


Collins Land

Words trenched into the stone. They could be seen clearly, even forty years later. The excitement of revisiting this secret place made him recall the pact of silence with his sister. He knelt to greet her. Her blond hair had grown thin. “I came back.” She smiled continuously, half of her teeth missing. “Yes, they don’t know you’re here. They never will.” As he slid the stone back in place to hide the entrance to the cave, he read those words one last time. “I hate you.” He had written them himself with great effort back when he was ten.

Sunday, March 1, 2015


Tierra de Fuego

After dark, evil spirits haunted the town for weeks. “A warning against nuclear tests,” old people said. The Mayor called in all sorts of experts to solve the problem, to no avail. One day, a man showed up, claiming he could end the torture. He had a jar. “It’s magic,” he said. Everyone went home and waited. The next day, the man was gone. Under the jar, a note. “Done.” Inside, dozens of them; they looked like a cross between crickets and fireflies. They were nice to look at, but were they loud. Sometimes, things are simpler than we think.