July 21st & 22nd, 2010

July 21st, 2010 -- "l'océan est d'incendie"

July 22nd, 2010 -- "Mirror"


July 18th & 19th, 2010

July 18th, 2010 -- "Passive Observers"


July 19th, 2010 -- "Islander"



July 17th, 2010 -- "Star Ruin"

In the dusty back room with the accordion door, an old man sits in a dry seat surrounded by slowly expanding twists of sage smoke and small electric lights. He stares carefully at some furniture toward the far end of the room and lets a small window fan lift and toss his string hair in the night heat. On a night like tonight, his rusted pop-up trailer - the same that he dragged out to this strip of canyon land some years ago with a borrowed truck - seems deceivingly large in the dark.

On a scratched table in the corner, a small, blocky radio whispers static and peers out at the world through its bright red power light. The old man checks a clock by the door and blinks lazily. Four o'clock. Not good enough.

Outside, a wolf howls and some insects skitter through the crazy sand for the cover.



July 16th, 2010 -- "Grouchfeathers"

Grouped and soaked, clumped and wet, cold and deep and eerily eternal, the three slouch over their frames with a careful and unflinching rigidity. When moving, the damp collections of clipped feathers make the sound of black grass covered in thick water. On a night like tonight, when the moon is gone from the heavens and the stars in the sky seem like a serpentine fog of cosmic light, their eyes buzz outward from their sockets with a kind of low intensity that can be heard well enough before being seen.

They all blink in unison while grumbling quite low. This was a good night.



July 14th, 2010 -- "The Battle for Boston"

Smash! Crash! Boom!

Nigel stood in the relative warmth of the bug zapper and became quite animated. He loved his new books.



July 11th, 2010 -- "The Harbinger"

Inches above the tar, his breath slowed to a bubbling sputter that flecked the smoothing surface of the oily dark in front of him with small bits of saliva and grit. He had come to this land days ago with only fair trade in mind. He had his goods and his gold in his cat, and he had the tight light of the sun on his shoulders. He had no real sense for what his own arrival had brought with it, for he had arrived and brought with him the raked, cold mess that spreads.

As he sank, the moon smoothed its way along the deep black of the air.

It was only the beginning.



July 10th, 2010 -- "The Strange Window"

There's an odd eye in the water. It was invited to this world to participate.



July 7th, 2010 -- "Edward"

For Edward, the warmer days were proof positive that even the coldest, dirtiest sand could become a wonderfully cupping purchase of heavenly drift. Given that the conditions could end up perfect, any lonely shaft of loose parking sand could become like soft honey, like a velvet pool of earthglow, fit to sit and right to lay around in.

He had found this place early, when the sun wasn't as large in the sky. He found it early with no one around and stayed for a while. He stayed for a bit and then continued.

Eventually, at 2 o'clock, with no intention of moving, with no real plan to adapt to change, with no exceptional way of explaining his motives or lack thereof, he fell asleep in the sun peacefully.



July 6th, 2010 -- "The Careful Torrent"

The plan was simple - get in, get out, no fuss, no mess. No red wires. No huge pillar of light. Simple. Quick. Banks had briefed her earlier in the day with the plan of operation. Do the job. No one gets hurt. The science was final and fine. Payment upon receipt. That kind of thing.

Lunch would be interesting, in the morning.



July 5th, 2010 -- "Permaduty"

5438 cares too much or just enough. You won't be allowed enough time to form any kind of real opinion. Don't worry.



July 4th, 2010 -- "A Fire Scientist"

With a low and thermal hum, the rabid world around the good doctor came to life.



July 2nd, 2010 -- "'Why don't you like pancakes...?'"

The kitchen was dark, the only legitimate light source being a murky stove lamp stationed above the stained metal coils scratched with pot dust. Danielle stood by the window and sniffed at the cool breeze passing through the screen by a candle. She looked out.

The meal was fine. Most of the conversation for the night had revolved around menial tax trouble and entirely arbitrary history trivia. A drink had been spilled, which was fine. Some sauce hit the table in the shape of a noodle - also fine. The meal was fine and nice and led off into a quiet evening by the window.

What else could be said?

Outside, trees grew dark.