The year is 2078. Rampant consumption has succeeded in burning a hole through the ozone layer.
Category: Original Fiction
This smell was different. This smell was not like before.
“The chimpanzee with a bandaged forehead grabbed a hypodermic needle . . .”
“In Eyre Square the boy Victor waited, watching the front entrance of the Great Southern Hotel. The bells of the Abbey church struck 2:00 am in the rain-solaced silence.”
The sparrow literally dropped through the flue into Helen’s cold fire place at just barely daylight. At first, she thought she imagined it.
“Good morning, love. I guess it’s morning, though it’s hard to tell. It’s just too dark all the time now . . .”
“Fifteen-love,” Georgia says then serves.
Blades reached her just as the light at State and Washington turned green . . .
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