The plants had a language all their own. Some telepathic something that evolved over centuries. Able to send out warnings to other nearby flora. Like now, for instance. Sentient or no, a guy’s gotta eat. The foragers lit their fire and buttered their pan.
Vignettes, six word stories, experimental poetry, words typed in a haphazard order.
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The place was so silent that it became intolerably loud inside his head. In hindsight, opening a store dedicated to the flat earth theory ju...
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Growing up bored on a dirt planet harvesting moisture, the young mystical warrior jumped at the chance to go off-world, join a terrorist cel...
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Inconsequentiality was there to greet him at the dead end of the long road called following his dreams. He closed his overworked laptop, but...
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