Tag: fantasy

Keep Warm

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Winter is coming, and we watch the nearby islands raise their sails to catch the tradewinds for warmer seas.
But ours will not join them in the Great Migration.
“We stay,” says the tribal chief. “We have plenty of food, warm houses to live in.”
“But it will be cold!” the people say. “We can be warm all year round like the others.”
“Then go join them,” said the chief. “Get in your canoes and go to them.”
Many leave, but even more arrive from other islands.
“We will help you stay warm,” they say.
The chief winks and grins.

Blue Skies

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Cindy looks up at the sky and scowls at the hideous shade of green.
“Blue skies, please,” she says, and the scene vanishes for a moment before rendering again, this time with blue skies.
She brings up a catalog of clouds, cycles through her favorites, and tosses them into the sky.
“Drift,” she says, and the clouds begin to slowly roll eastward.
She got halfway through the forest before the power spike wiped out her simulation.
She checked her settings.
No auto-save.
The skies boiled red for an hour before she regained her composure.
And started again: “Blue skies, please.”

Father

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Sitting here on the park bench, watching the kids run and play, I feel like I have been missing out on the joys of fatherhood.
What would it be like to raise a child? Would all my doubts and fears fade as I take on that role? (Or, I suppose, the role take over me.)
No. The doctors warned me about thinking like this, trying again.
My hands clench and release, over and over.
Stop.
Not again. No more blood. No more screaming.
I get up slowly, walk back to my workshop, and stare at the puppet-boy.
Stay wood, Pinocchio.

Forget about the dragons

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It is illegal to slay a dragon. Even in self-defense.
Sure, there are no dragons in England anymore, but the law is the law, and it’s still illegal to slay dragons.
So when HM Revenue saw “Dragonslayer” on my return, I was picked up for questioning.
“Don’t you know that it’s illegal to slay dragons?” said the agent.
“There aren’t any dragons anymore,” I said. “There’s none left to slay.”
At that point, they handcuffed me and read me my rights.
“Why are you arresting me?” I said.
“You just couldn’t stop, could you?” they said. “You killed them all!”

The Frying Pan

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You’ve heard of the expression “Out of the frying pan and into the fire” right?
But have you heard of its opposite?
“Out of the fire and into the frying pan” may not make sense to you, but then you don’t work with elemental spirits.
This is why we do not cook over the burners here in the research dungeon. Food attracts unwelcome guests to our plane of existence, and before you know it, you’re surrounded by firedrakes and salamanders.
Well, those and cockroaches, but we have traps for those.
And you can’t stomp a firedrake as easily as cockroaches.

The Leak

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Oil gushes from the platform, spilling into the bay.
Crews are hard at work, rescuing oil-soaked birds and animals.
Other crews are using sonic nets to drive sea life out of the area to safety.
Merfolk aren’t happy that drilling platform is leaking into their kingdom, and their ambassador angrily points to the contract where the humans would guarantee safety and a portion of the revenues, acting quickly to resolve any spills or accidents.
We are not acting quickly enough, he says. Poseidon will call up more hurricanes if we don’t work faster.
The president scowls and gives the order.

Counting Sheep

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I’ve been having trouble sleeping.
I’ve tried counting sheep, but I’ve only got one sheep.
His name is Fred.
“One,” I say, looking at Fred.
“Baaaaaaaa,” says Fred.
“Jump over the fence again, Fred,” I say.
“Baaaaaaaa,” says Fred, and he grazes a bit.
So, I brained Fred with a baseball bat, carved him up, and cooked him.
Fred was absolutely delicious!
I woke up the next day, rested and feeling full.
The next night, Fred was back, standing by the fence.
And he was just as delicious when I ate him.
Sure, it’s the same sheep, but who’s counting?

Hole in my sock

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I think there is a hole in my sock.
There was a hole in my underwear a few days ago, but it slipped and dropped into my pant leg.
I don’t see the hole in my pants anymore, so either the hole fell into my sock or it dropped out through the cuff and on to the ground.
I take off my sock and look.
No hole in my sock.
I check the other sock. No holes there either.
Then I see the blood.
The hole is now in my foot.
I hop to the bathroom and get a bandage.

Santa’s Menorah

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The elves wanted to explore diversity and different cultures, so Santa bought a menorah and lit the candles.
“Aren’t you supposed to sing something?” asked Blitzen.
“Shit if I know,” said Santa. “This writing looks like an army of chocolate-covered ants fucking.”
Santa put all nine candles in, the elves sang Christmas carols, and they all went back to work.
“Do you smell smoke?” said Twinkletoes.
Sure enough, the workshop was on fire.
The flames spread to the reindeer barn, the elf dormitory, and Santa’s house.
“Everybody gets wood burning kits,” declared Santa.
And they all froze their asses off.

The Girl Who Sneezed Dimes

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I once knew a girl who sneezed dimes.
Yeah, she could pay her own way when we went out to dinner, but have you ever eaten with someone who’s got a nasty cold?
Not all that appetizing.
The sex was okay, but I caught a snot-covered dime in the mouth more than once.
And she didn’t like being taken from behind.
It just wasn’t working out.
Over time, she’d saved up enough to pay for art school.
She packed her things, called a cab, and dumped a handful of dimes in the driver’s hands.
At least she’d washed them first.