Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

An uncertain egg
For uncertain times
Cracked
Wide
Open
And inside
The future?
The end?
A mess either way.

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The sound came like nails on a chalkboard, and the crow hopped forward, wings open aggressively, toward the new arrival. Only its aggressive action kept the other, smaller, birds from fleeing at once.

Sauntering in, the squirrel nodded at the birds. “How ya doin’?” it said. “I hear you’ve been having problems with a feeder.”

“Yes,” the finch began. “Those cardinals–”

“Look, I don’t care about your petty little squabbles, all right?” the squirrel said. “I’ve got a proposition for you. And I think you’re gonna like it.”

“You!” the cardinal fumed. “Your propositions all involve gorging yourself until you’re so fat that you fall off the feeder!”

“Maybe,” the squirrel said. “But what if I tell you that, after I’ve had my fill, you can all do the same?”

“We’re listening,” the crow said, warily. “What do you propose?”

“Easy,” the squirrel said. “We knock the feeder down.”

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“We have called this meeting to negotiate over the use of the feeder,” said the crow. “As I am too large to use it, I have been chosen as mediator.”

“Yes! It is time to end the finches’ domination of the best food source in the area,” cried the sparrow. “Those bullies have chased the rest of us smaller birds away until there is nothing left but scraps!”

“And yet, why is it that whenever we have a moment’s feeding time, we are always chased away by the cardinals?” retorted the finch.

“You look at us when the cowbirds are using the feeder too?” cried the cardinal, fluffing his feathers and extending his crest. “Those parasites are gorging themselves on seeds before leaving their eggs in our nests!”

“Oy!” burbled the cowbird. “Ya best not be droppin’ inside yer own nest afore ya tell others ta clean up, eh? Cor, the cardinals’re fightin’ ’emselves as much as they is us!”

“Fighting that just scares us all away,” said the dove sadly, “meaning we just have to come back to eat more.”

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ACFrOgB0Y: I had another sustained vision last night. I saw the world aflame, burning, and myself as an ember dancing upon it–riding the blastwave, yet powerless to effect its course.

darcysustained: lol wut

ACFrOgB0Y: My dream. I’m talking about that dream I keep having. A chilling vision of things to come.

darcysustained: ok lol

ACFrOgB0Y: …why are we friends.

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Lowellwood Sanitinyum
Founded in 1880 by one Dr. Phoebus T. Klaus, the Sanitinyum reflects his theory that a rigorous dose of claustrophobia is as important as steam baths, enemas, and high-fiber diets in maintaining general wellness. Though Dr. Klaus’s theories have long since been disproven, the Sanitinyum remains as a modern clinic that, despite renovations, is still pretty small.

This Old Thing Antiques
The island of Lowellwood has been a summer colony for folks on the main island, and This Old Thing has dedicated itself to monetizing this heritage. Through a rigorous program of picking, garage sailing, and dumpster diving, the owners have managed to accumulate a dazzling variety of old, interesting, and potentially cursed items.

Kneadful Things
One of the oldest businesses on Lowellwood, Kneadful Things has been a rising star for decades, and is definitely on a roll. Its frosted Halloween cookies are a seasonal staple, its jack o’lantern pies light up faces the whole island over, and its award-winning breads are favored by all but the crustiest customers. Talk of strange ingredients and sourdough starter of eldritch origin are surely just stale rumors.

Beau Bijoux
A bastion of haute couture on Lowellwood, Beau Bijoux is currently in its third generation of local ownership. Rising up from humble origins when socialite and starlet Marlene Withers retreated to the island and began selling her jewelry to support herself, Beau Bijoux now stocks a dazzling blend of old heirlooms and new stones. Whether you want a rock that rocks or a stone that rolls, Beau Bijoux has you covered! For the adventurous, there is always the Forbidden Collection as well, stones whose histories hint at grim fates for any who would dare to wear.

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You can see it there, on the tidal flats, on a good clear day. Too hot and the shimmers will start coming up, making it look like some kind of ghost. But it’s real, and it stalks the approaches to the old flooded city during broad daylight as well as dusk. I’d call it a predator, but it doesn’t seem to eat what it kills. At least, not any parts we can see.

What’s that? Oh, what it looks like? No one’s gotten too close and lived to tell the tale, but if you look over the beach from Shady Bluff you can get a decent look at it, especially with binoculars or a spyglass. It’s tall, nine feet at least, and spindly as all get-out. Almost scarecrow-like, and real thin. I bet you could knock it off those tall thin legs real easily if you got close.

No, I don’t know what it’s made of. Looks black and iridescent. Some folks have said it’s metal, some flesh, some hard like a bug. I don’t much care. It looks like a thin man but it’s bigger and faster, that’s all I care about.

It’s the head you’ve got to be careful of. Get too close, and it’ll…well, I’d call it a scream, but you can’t hear it. It’s like a dog whistle. Make a little ripple in the air like you see with some big explosions, and if you’re too close, you drop dead. Bleeding from the ears.

It can hear you real good, and if you try to make the trip, it’ll come for you straight. Some people have made it. A few have even come back. But I wouldn’t do it if I were you. We did something, something that got things all stirred up around the old flooded city. and it’ll never forgive us. Not ever.

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“I’m dialing as fast as I can!” Carl cried. Each number seemed to take forever as the phone dial slowly worked backwards and pulsed out the digits after he’d entered them.

“Hello, this is central dispatch, please state the nature of your emergency.”

“It’s Sweeney,” Carl said, breathlessly, looking out his window at the farmland. “He’s trapped!”

“Slow down, sir,” the operator said. “Where are you, and where is this Mr. Sweeney trapped?”

“Rural Route 401 #2287,” said Carl. “Sweeney’s one of the guys around here. Runs and rents farm equipment, combines and the like. He’s not exactly a big deal around here, but…I guess, maybe a medium deal? He’s a personality.”

“I see,” the operator said. She did not sound particularly interested in either the urgency in Carl’s voice or his account of events. “And he was trapped…?”

“Oh. By a sinkhole that opened up under his tractor. Maybe from the rains? Darndest thing I e’er did see.”

“We’ll send someone out.”

“See that you do,” Carl said. “I’m paying him by the hour, and I’ll be darned if I’m paying him for loafing around in a hole.”

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A beautiful spring day ahead
Clear skies above, warm but not hot
We want to be out in it, feeling it
But the danger is still too strong
Watching birds go about their business
And seeds innocently sprouting
There are two things right now we fear
The first is sickness, deadening the lungs
Drowning on land, all alone, intubated
The second is old men, suits with servants
Telling us to die for their money

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Matt held up his phone, the recorder app running. “Explorer’s log, entry 1292. Our mission continues, though resupply remains limited. More and more of the worlds we encounter have hostile environments. I’ve had to increase to a Level II environment suit when I venture out to explore.”

Running his hand through the cupboard, he pulled out a box of expired Pasta-Roni and wrinkled his nose. “Rations are as low as morale.”

Looking over to Kevin, asleep on the couch, Matt continued: “My copilot has dealt with the situation by remaining in his hibernation chamber for increasing periods of time. That won’t do for me.”

He looked at the pile he’d started on the floor, made of of cut-up old raincoats and PPE material from the household stash. “I’m an explorer. I need to explore.”

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“There’s one of these ziggurats every 101.2 kilometers, equidistant around Rethymnon’s equator,” Brogan said. “A simple fractal pattern made up of repeating square tombs. There must be billions of aliens entombed in them for the structures to be so large.”

“And you know this how?” said Neilos. He exhaled heavily, momentarily fogging his suit’s helmet, from the exertion of walking in the thin atmosphere with his heavy load.

“It’s one of the great romantic mysteries of interstellar archaeology,” replied Brogan. “Who were they? What did they look like? Why come here to bury their dead?”

“Open the tomb and see,” Dragovic muttered. “Mysteries solved.”

“That’s not allowed. Grave-robbing and such,” said Brogan. “Once they realized these were tombs, the law said they’d have to leave them alone.”

“And what about us?” Neilos said.

“Neilos, I would break into King Tut’s tomb myself and throw him out of his gold coffin if it meant not dying on this rock,” Brogan replied. “I’m also hoping we’re near one of the things that was surveyed. Might be some equipment we can scavenge, or a castaway hut.”

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