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.
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.
He stared at the mirror, at the composite he had become. It held a reflection capturing his bitterest Hyde and Jekyll moments. He placed his hand firmly on the vanity, turned on the tap and watched the water spiral down … Continue reading Coriolis. A short tale.
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.
She waited as he wasted away. She watched and pined. He watched as well; sometimes TV, sometimes her. She fed him hand-to-mouth. Eventually he refused to eat. As he grew thinner, the drip in his arm pulsed like a marathon … Continue reading The Wait. A short tale.
As Aisha and I ran down the underground corridor, squinting in the dim light, we heard a voice crackling from an old wooden speaker box on the wall. It was Silas. “You can’t escape you know.” We darted to the … Continue reading The Sale. Part 13.
Here’s a post I did for a recent uni course. The course is over so I can post it now. The idea was to take a news story and extrapolate what it was about. A man attacked a woman … Continue reading The Real News. A short tale.
My hands were in the air and so was the rock-solid Maglite flashlight. Silas was watching the Mexican standoff in the store room where crazy woman Junifer had confronted Aisha. I threw the torch as hard as I could. It … Continue reading The Sale. Part 12.
Aisha froze and dropped her phone. The screen cracked on the concrete floor as it bounced at her feet. Across the large, concrete-walled room was Silas, the aged and insensitively tall butler. He was no longer dressed in his servant togs, having changed to a white lab coat and matching trousers, and accessorising with a .38 snub-nosed revolver. Pointing right at Aisha. Being only partly cowardly, I rushed in front to shield her. Having done so I realised perhaps it wasn’t the wisest course of action. My eyes widened. “What the…” “Indeed, John,” said Silas, smiling like a James Bond villain. … Continue reading The Sale. Part 11. A short series.
Climbing down the ladder we came to the ground floor, with the passage leading to the pantry. “Should we stop here?” said Aisha, taking the iPhone out of her mouth and shining the torch light up the dingy corridor. “I really think we need to check out the basement.” I tapped my foot impatiently on the rung above her head. “We don’t know if Crazy Junifer is waiting in the kitchen.” Aisha looked up at me and frowned. “She could be anywhere.” “Can we just get going? The faster we get to the basement the faster we can get out … Continue reading The Sale. Part 10. A short series.
Laidback DM: SteveStillStanding.com 