Gut-bound hair wreathes hung from the eaves. Insects nailed to the door with rose thorns. Clearly, we had Fairies.
Celebrations of R'lyeh's subduction down the Nankai Trough were dampened by petrologic models of a metamorphic Cthulhu.
Lanterns bobbed through the fog, accompanied by the faint noises of men and dogs. Cursing, I ran for the woods.
Fifty miles back, the crashed Saucer hissed in the thunderstorm. Behind him in the truck bed, the tarp stirred.
"Why buzzsaw arms!?" he shouted, scrambling up the tree. "Science!" I said. Below, B.U.N.Y.O.N.'s eyes glowed red.
The rain of blood may have cast the world into despair and madness but, by God, it really helped our melon patch.
As we dug we found more pipes leading into the house. Water, ozone, salt water, treacle, chicken blood...we kept digging.
Inexorably the toffee glacier advanced, grinding the hills to dust as it approached town. Never piss off a Candy Wizard.
The vines were meant for soil erosion. Grew fast, strangled a Company man who came to check. I collected seed carefully.
"Canopic jars?" I asked, peering into the pantry. "Canning time soon," she answered, feeling the edge of her knife
The trick in birdwatching is to remain perfectly still, sometimes for hours. I'm good at it myself. Oh! Turkey Vultures!
"Work ain't what it used to be" said Poseidon, polishing sand grains as slightly acidic waters ate away at his carapace.
Butterflies gathered on the mud, wet with piss. Maybe, I thought, he'll be home tonight. Wings shimmered in the heat.
"detect can I that None" .pauses He. "?fabric space/time in problems any seen you have, accident Chronoengine the Since"
The rain ended, the clouds scattered, but something wasn't right. Had there always been two suns? Had they always been blue?
The raccoons are a real problem, for sure, but I'm more mad at the people that sold them the guns in the first place.
Plotting global seismicity on a map centered on the south pole, words emerged. Of course, I don't appreciate profanity.
The rocket, with a record of Earth's history, science, and art, rose into the sky. "Now," he said "to destroy the Earth."
The ceiling glistend with egg jellies. Chitin debris littered the floor. "Son," he said, "clean up after your pet."
Sara leaned off the dock with her torch. Wriggling, silvery things swam to the light. "We'll bring Dad to us" she said
"Teeth are taxonomically valuable." They unfurled a tentacle, "For instance, dentomorph b3 is common in garbage strata
The War against God was surprisingly short, once we found the bastard. (He was in the Gaps, buying overpriced khakis.)
The tangled bush was too lush when everything else died. It moved without wind. He should have buried him somewhere else
We got the iceblock into the warm garage to melt. If you squint, you can see the shape inside, tall, twisted, dark.
Putting down a vengeful spirit was the easy part. My hair smelled like holy herbs, and the security deposit? Lost cause.
"I'll take it."
"Sight unseen?"
"Sure."
"Look, it's a Mk 2. Patched frame, iffy pump-"
"Blonde?"
"Yeah-"
"I'll pay cash"
"Oil ain't the only thing under these salt domes. Take a listen." He hands me the headset, and I hear a moaning chant.
A jagged piece of bloody onyx had been stabbed into my door. "The Shorn Priests of Ix!" he gasped. "What did you DO?"
I watched stars arc through the sky, dimmed only by the feeble red glow of a low sun during the planet's short summers.
"Something's got the dogs riled up," he said, looking through the shutters into the yard. The ten animals dug furiously.
"This new Generation! Lazy! Focused on 'technology'!" Old Man grumbled. I felt the chert blade of my spear, and grinned.
"Annabel Lee" was the fastest ship of her type, scudding between Cloud Kingdoms like a falcon. Her Capn was a driven man
"Tower status?"
"On schedule! At the gem gate of the 3rd heaven!"
"Soon we'll meet God!"
"And then he better watch out"
She had a rum flask, cloth, the knife and cup, and two names, one burning in her mind, the other freezing her heart.
Snow falls, flurries soon building to a blizzard. Shoulders hunched, she walks on, dragging the ruined sleigh.
He dug through most of the cook shack to find the cans he'd saved, fat and swollen. Outside, the men weighed their gold.
The sand hissed under his shell as Poseidon drug himself across the badlands. He'd left an ocean here, some time ago.
Choking, she spat out the fruit, eventually retching behind the tree. "Yeah," said the snake, "takes getting-used-to."
Teeth falling out, sinking, naked in class; unlike his Grampa Randolph, Bob Carter never got the hang of the Dreamlands.
Libraries were the worst, full of wide-open minds, thoughts sieving through them, a real feast. It tested even his will.
"Odd folks," he said, "but six months rent in advance. Lotsa crates. Seemed real excited about the marshes here about."
"Miles of pure sea salt!" Leaning on his rake, he gazed across the flats. He saw me fidgeting. "You can piss anywhere."
He was desperately ready for peace, but the rest of him voted against dying. Sobbing, he lurched forward into the night.
"Calm," Master wheezed. "Find the storm's center, simply BE." Breathing, I let my eyes unfocus and saw it: a dolphin.
After all that jostling, It's bendy, many-legged host finally got comfy.
The bananas had been loaded onto the ship.
It rippled through minds, hunting suitable lodgings. Swimming through crowds was hard but Bad Ideas are very streamlined.
"Know seed bombs? Seed balls you toss, to green the city. It's like that," he said, hefting a sphere, "but with viruses".
She had an eyepatch and was good with a knife. They called her "Mary of the Seven Tombs." He never felt like asking why.
He dug fast. The Circean glamor occupying the guards wouldn't last long. His spade splintered wood: the coffin, at last.
Dyer, W., 1934, On buried fault lines, observed seismicity, and ritualistic murder: Geognostic Review, v.14, p.134-188.
No comments:
Post a Comment