Lady Chao’s headquarters is just as ruinous as the other buildings surrounding it. Rusted metal supports play peek-a-boo through holey concrete walls. The lower levels are salt-sutured steel and raggedy plate glass. Only the top four levels are decently attired: … Continue reading Anvil. Part 10.
A sonic boom cracks the sky beneath the floating city. Tossing to and fro in the wild surf below, the little inflatable raft seems little more than a speck on the ocean’s roiling back. The aging interceptor slows and pulls … Continue reading Anvil. Part 9.
The tall old woman is angry. She throws her cup of shoujiu across the room where it shatters against the wall. “They took my interceptor?” Her eyes are narrow slits, her crow’s feet now a delta fanning both sides of … Continue reading Anvil. Part 8.
It’s six hours out and Granny Chun vomits into the bucket for the seventh time. She groans and spits bile into the foul, bitter broth meandering at the bottom of the pail. Violet is out of her capsule, sleeping restfully, … Continue reading Anvil. Part 7.
They tramp down five flights in faulty glowglobe dimness, skirting sleeping derelicts and the occasional Verso dealer. They are given wide berth by the occupants; Granny Chun’s pumpgun speaks volumes without ever needing to bark. Eventually they reach a level … Continue reading Anvil. Part 6.
The Anvil stares blankly at Granny Chun—not much different from most of her male body’s expressions. “I think you better fill me in. From the beginning.” Chun grins. “Of course. But we need to get out of here.” She points … Continue reading Anvil. Part 5.
Shi-Cho has worked spec ops for many years. His body has been wounded, trashed and rebuilt so many times he almost forgets which parts are human and which are cybernetic. His left eye is biosynthetic, but his right is original. … Continue reading Anvil. Part 4.
The little girl flinches, stepping back and hugging the teddy bear and Granny Chun’s leg. “Well what did you expect?” says the old woman. “You come here looking like some badass, muscle-head man and expect your daughter to recognise you?” … Continue reading Anvil. Part 3.
The bubble cab drops quickly. Through the transparent plastiglass roof the Anvil can see the city’s bottom, a mishmash of giant tubes, pipes, grav generators and spotlights. The ocean below rises to meet the taxi, a cacophonous tundra where waves … Continue reading Anvil. A short series. Part 2.
He awakens to a miasma of colour, of senses and routines flashing incandescently in his mind, before his eyes, of images and words and confusion and cacophony, as the world comes into focus. Through the informational arrays filling his vision, … Continue reading Anvil. A short, unplanned series. Part 1.
Here’s a flash fiction I wrote a while back. It wasn’t seen by many at the time, so I’ve decided to re-blog it in the hope that more may get the chance to read it. https://stevestillstanding.com/2017/06/24/sucker-punch-a-short-tale/ Hope you like it. … Continue reading Sucker Punch. A short tale, revisited.
I created Chuck for one of my short stories, written for uni. Following is a character study I wrote for him. If you’re not familiar with a character study, it’s used to develop a character’s background and personality traits. From … Continue reading Chuck. A character study.
A flash fiction about rainy streets, and the people who walk them. In the tradition of noir. Sounds serious… Continue reading The Wet Street Shuffle. A short tale.
Here’s another short piece I recently wrote for uni. The exercise was to create some realistic dialogue. Hope you like it. Continue reading The Diff. A short tale.
Ever felt like something was missing? I have. And that’s what this brief tale is about… Continue reading Missing. A short tale.
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