Detective Mark Wheeler lay on the grass. The ground chilled his bones as the fog rolled in.
Tag: flash fiction
“Droplets of liquid methane began to splash on Glin’s bald head . . .”
The year is 2078. Rampant consumption has succeeded in burning a hole through the ozone layer.
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.
Blades reached her just as the light at State and Washington turned green . . .