The time was nigh for him to hum and twist about berserkly with a broom no longer, as his right hand spidered its way across the piano to the cold soda can, and with a firm grip, his thumb popped the top and sent a bite of cola and a hissing spray into the air….
There are no boundaries set The time and yet You waste it still So it slips through your hands Like grains of sand You watch it go There’s no time to be lost You’ll pay the cost So get it right… – There’s No Way Out Of Here David Gilmour Radical…
The disparaging had dwindled as she gazed at the subtle scuff on her left shoe through teary eyes. “Heels, a woman should never dismount her heels,” her mother had always harped. She scrutinized the man behind the pulpit: 6’2″, white hair, white beard,about 300 pounds, charming, deep tones in his voice. I am so…
Three ghastly and grunting goons glided towards him giving him the googly eyes that promised pain and punishment. The leader of the punks pensive and poignant then shifting to pugilistic putrid ploys, whispered an archaic word into the dank distance between them. He could almost hear his own heartbeat through the burning in his…
The slithering and sordid screech had evoked a sweet surrender to the senses as I plummeted through a clustered expanse—a burning, cutting arrow had broken through and punctured my aching chest. Thin scarlet streams spewed forth from the splintered gash, cradled by my trembling hands, disappearing like spiraling ribbons into the vast blue sky above….
For whatever reason, the dilettante did surrender with tender shame, driven empathy and rash whimsical effrontery; the envelope opener lay in her trembling open hands, which rested upon the white silk night robe her mother passed on to her a few years before her death. Beautifully baroqued boudoir at a gaze distance from the foggy…
He blazed through the dirty streets of Browntown, Texas with his cigarette smoke-stained Converse sneakers, his faded and ripped 501 jeans, his magical acne-scarred face, dark-black hair, dark-brown complexion, thin and tall, his eyes said, “let me in your home to steal your jewelry, your money, your television set, your heart,” while his smile vibed…
The ending business of an etching goodbye, betwixt the blunder and the brood, eradicated flailing concerns, gobbled up the esoteric posturing, and thrusted forward the salivating sudden urge to break the black marble underneath his fisting feet. His prudent and prestigious parents had conceived him the first and fairest of them all. His parents were…
“The Eyes Have It” originally appeared in Science Fiction Stories 1953, but since the copyright wasn’t renewed, it’s lapsed into the public domain. “A little whimsy, now and then, makes for good balance,” the magazine’s editors wrote then. “Theoretically, you could find this type of humor anywhere. But only a topflight science-fictionist, we thought, could…
The moonlight bathed the bloodshed, adding a silver blanket that glimmered in waves across the bodies of men that wailed and grunted, sparkling with scarlet spears, carnage of human fields, and he exhaled with reticent resolve—gazing beyond the ocean of death, thinking of home. Recollections of horripilation, while he ran across cold marble floors, sighed…
