Did you hear that they are moving the factory that makes unbreakable kitchenware to the island of Barbados?
It’s the Pyrex of the Caribbean.
January 18, 2017
From “Jokes That Violate Copyrights” by “Wry” Ron Pilkinton
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January 17, 2017
From “Born of the Boughs, to the Boughs Return” by Tedd Hodum
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Cyra shuddered, and the branches that had already blossomed from her skin shook their boughs, heavy with green buds.
“The woods have already claimed me,” she murmured in a reedy voice through a throat choked with roots. “You know it is our way.”
I hefted my axe. “And you know it is not our way to accept that.”
“Even if you could…even if you cut away every branch as it grows…I will still slow and cease to quicken. What will you have then? A wooden trophy? Allow me to take the path of my kind in peace.”
January 16, 2017
From “Seamstress of Souls” by Ramses Stoessel
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“Welcome, friend. I have long seen you wander through this place,” I said, “yet this is the first time you have ever suffered my approach. I hope you don’t think it imprudent of me to ask who you are, and what business brings you to my family’s gardens?”
A solid white sheet hid the content’s of the woman’s face from view, tucked cleanly into her shawl. But I could see a jaw moving beneath, the outline of brows.
“It is always a pleasure to be approached so politely.” The thing’s voice was like paired pipes, one high and soft, one deep and desert-cracked. “Pleasantries are meaningless but they do ease the burdens of weary travelers.”
“May I fetch you anything from the house?” I added.
“To answer your second question: no thank you. There is naught there which would nourish me. To answer your first, I am a seamstress of the human soul. But I am not a wealthy one, and I must make do with the scraps.”
“I am afraid,” I said, “I do not catch your meaning.”
“When a soul passes, it furnishes material from which new souls might be fashioned. It is the nature of my kind to do so. But without means, the poorest of my kind must take the barest soul-scraps and fashion from them quilts.”
I sucked in a breath. “And what, pray, is a soul-scrap?” I whispered.
“Ask your sister,” the thing replied. “She has just lost the life she has carried for six months, and that tiny scrap is what I have come to collect as an act of charity.”
Inspired by this.
January 15, 2017
Name: Evelyn Morlock.
Age: 34.
Height: 5’8”
Hair: White blonde.
Eyes: Light brown.
Body type: Lithe and muscular, due largely to her training as a librarian.
Likes: Books (of course), discovering new information, exotic green teas, cats, cooking soup, dabbles in growing tea plants.
Dislikes: Candles, roasting meat, ignorance, secrets that she doesn’t know, spear training, jogging
Personality traits: Rash, enthusiastic, passionate, tough, determined, regimented, somewhat close-minded, dedicated, intentionally composed, outwardly serene/stoic, nosy.
Best friend: A midget named Roland who words in archives. He’s very jumpy and got stuck in archives because he failed every single defense test required, but government quota requirements forced the library to hire him.
Background: Evelyn is a junior librarian at the Aklatan, the foremost library of her world. As all librarians are, she is charged with defending her books and so is in the midst of a rigorous training regimen involving hand-to-hand combat, swordsmanship, and combat magic.
January 14, 2017
From “Like A Fading Dream” by Blythe Hilson
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A glistening c ty shining against a g_lden sky, bright wi_h suns and m_ons uncounted lay be_ore me.
Ste__ng fo_ward i__o the breach, I c_n se_ spread o_t bef_e my eyes the armies of dr___s u__der _anne__ _n th_ _or _s of the real __.
They are t_ere t_ gr__t m_ a_d t__ l___ of my q____.
A_d t_ _he _e I why a p_le___ me cou__ _e _r b_ ___w _o again.
M_ __ _ qu___ a__ th_ __r_ k______.
___ _ __ ___ _____ j_____ l___.
_a__ ____ _ ___ ______ ___ ___
__ _ _____ ___ __ ___ _____
January 13, 2017
From “Midwestworld” by Schmidt Werdlow
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“It’s the greatest thing ever,” said Collins. “It lets you live out your fantasies in a historical setting.”
“Like what?” asked Billingsley.
“You can know the joy of having a soulless factory job, of getting laid off when production moves to Mexico, of having an affair under the shadow of a dead marriage…hell, you can even drive a car that runs on gasoline!”
“What do they call it?”
“What else? Midwestworld!”
January 12, 2017
From “The Librarian” by Altos Wexan
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January 11, 2017
From “Kitschman” by Blythe Hilson
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January 10, 2017
From “Aobsolutely Petrified” by Norris Suncress
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Words are important. Lest we forget, the Alchemist-Mage wars, which lasted 30 years and claimed untold lives, started after a misunderstanding.
A blustering mage claimed that his business success would leave his alchemist rivals absolutely petrified, and they took it as a literal threat that they’d be turned to stone. So they struck first with the magebomb, and the rest is history.
January 9, 2017
From “The Snugglepuff Revelation” by Mariana Brinson
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Fluffers ejected through the emergency chute in his cybernetic human-suit. “What do you mean?” he said.
Laughing from the sparking breach in the ruined chest of his own suit, Snugglepuff continued. “We use these suits to move undetected among the humans,” he coughed. “But we’ve been blind this whole time.”
Fluffers’ suit crashed down behind him, and he scuttled up the battle damage on Snugglepuff’s failing suit. “Blind to what?” he shouted. “Tell me, you worthless old fuzzbucket!”
“There are no humans left,” laughed Snugglepuff. “Only hamsters in human suits lying to each other.”
Excerpts From Nonexistent Books 