Adjustments (short fiction)

Life was full of small tragedies. Henry had known that for years, but his daughter’s death was yet another reminder. She’d had a long, full life, left behind children and loved ones. It was sad when a parent outlived his child, but he was an old man. It could hardly be called unfair that his sixty-five year old daughter had died before him.

It still felt unfair. That was the tragedy. People would die, and people would be left behind to grieve. It didn’t matter the order. Somebody would be lost. Somebody would have to deal with that loss. He wished to hell it hadn’t been him left behind, but that wasn’t stopping the pain. It was merely giving it to someone else to carry.

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Broken (short fiction)

A Keeper of Worlds

 

They wouldn’t stop fighting.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why. The previous keeper of World 14 had experimented with wars. He might have thought it would make the inhabitants smarter, tougher, stronger. A simplistic interpretation of survival of the fittest. Or he might have gotten off on it. When you had ultimate power over life and death, it was easy to be corrupted by it.

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Cult (short fiction)

Geneva Cthulhu

 

Most of the time, freelancing for the Unknowables was a simple gig. Track something down. Bring something back. Fix this. Break that. Keep your head down. Don’t ask too many questions because the answers are never going to satisfy you.

But sometimes things got complicated. Sometimes, you ended up surrounded by cultists worshipping ancient gods. Most of the gods didn’t give a damn about who or who didn’t worship them. We were beneath their notice. Tiny crawling things screaming to the void in hopes it might hear us, never pondering it might be better to be ignored. We looked to the stars with dreams of greatness when all along it was waiting to devour us for wanting more than we had.

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In the Shadows, part two (short fiction)

Demon with 10,000 Fists

 

I’d made a mistake coming down here. Maybe my last one. This was his territory, and I’d walked right into it. I imagined myself dragged down by dogs, devoured by rats, my corpse thrown in a dark corner. A lousy way to end up, but the Game was rarely kind to the losers.

I ran up the stairs as the mutts gave chase. At the top of the stairs, I slammed the door shut, but the hinges were rotten. It wasn’t going to hold long. Just long enough for me to get out of here.

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