Author: carlbystrom@live.com

Atmospheric Entrance #3LineTales

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 3 Comments

Reading Time: < 1 minute

Even though everyone had perished, including Bess, the only creature in this universe that he’d ever truly trusted, Davis swore on the dawning star that he would go home again.

As he peered out at wings unfolding, preparing for a descent through clouds of who-knew-what toward a landing who-knew-where, Davis swallowed his embarrassment, choked on his grief, and studied the bitter taste of his fear.

He swirled the tang of panic and terror around his tongue, searching for sweet or earthy or musk, some note he might learn to savor but, plummeting through the mist, he tasted only sour.

Wait, is that all? Nope! Click to read more in the World Eater sequence.
Photo by Brian Gaid via Unsplash
Three Line Tales, Week 59

Clutch Your Buttocks and Keep Walking

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 9 Comments

Reading Time: 6 minutes

“So much for retirement,” Chisholm grumbled. The hum grew louder on the other side of the bay doors. “This was supposed to be a small town on the dark side of a tiny planet circling a quiet little star…” He heaved a duffel into the open rear hatch of the tug. “But no.” He scanned the bay for other vital possessions, walked to the corner and picked up two photoelectric cylinders and a tank of propane. “First, I lose my damn ship to an evil blonde ex-Marine, then I get caught in a fucking apocalypse.”

Rain began pattering on the metal roof. First just a few drops, then a few more, heavier, then the shower began in earnest. Except he knew it wasn’t rain. Continue reading “Clutch Your Buttocks and Keep Walking” →

Tock

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 26 Comments

Reading Time: < 1 minute

The wheel stood since the beginning. Dense, epic, and ancient before time, the world grew up around it. The center of everything, really: the halo of clear white sky, the arc of history, cultivation, and community. The entire enterprise.

Over time, we disremembered. It’s centrality lost and it’s soul objectified, our revere faded first to respect, then acceptance, then finally disregard. It became a relic, then a monument, a sculpture, then a toy. A plaything for children.

Until the day it turned.

Then everything we’d forgotten came crashing back.

Written for Friday Fictioneers  organized by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 100 words. Photo prompt.To see other’s responses to the prompt go here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

 

The Entire Sea #microfiction

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 12 Comments

Reading Time: 2 minutes

“Tell me about your home.”

“Nazarai?” Azi queried back, knowing it wasn’t the answer she wanted.

“No,” Meredith responded, “your true home.”

Azi, compelled by the magics woven through their bones, would always give Meredith what she wanted. “I was born on a water moon.”

Meredith raised her eyebrows. “Island dwellers?”

“No islands,” Azi said. ”Not that I can recall. Just water. My tribe were nomads. Pirates, maybe. I was taken before my tenth turn so my memories are vague.” Continue reading “The Entire Sea #microfiction” →

Patterns

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 3 Comments

Reading Time: 4 minutes

“You peer too deep,” Azi whispered.

Brushed by her companion’s breath, goosebumps rose on Meredith’s neck and cascaded down the right side of her body. The smooth fabric of her flight suit tantalized her alerted skin, sending a shiver through her bones. Continue reading “Patterns” →

Dope #3LineTales

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 3 Comments

Reading Time: < 1 minute

She’d found him, finally, and pulled the crumpled bills from her pocket in small wads and pushed them through the wire, grateful.

Moments later, her cheek pressed into the chain-link as four hands frisked and groped her then pried the small, damp baggie out of her white-knuckled fist.

Her benefactor stood silent, watching as he looked away.

Photo by Jake Oates via Unsplash
Three Line Tales, Week 58

 

Bad Air #writephoto

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 14 Comments

Reading Time: 2 minutes

“Damn,” Meredith’s disappointment felt unwarranted. She’d noticed the signs even before shuttling to the surface, but they’d made the descent anyway. This wasn’t the debris of a Solar swarm. Something other than those bastard Locusts had destroyed this world.

“Not what we were looking for?” Azi chimed, their tone knowing. Continue reading “Bad Air #writephoto” →

Collector

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 24 Comments

Reading Time: < 1 minute

“The very last one,” Meredith whispered as she pinned the treasure to a small square of cardboard and lowered it carefully into the box.

She’d tracked the Solar Locust, Eater of Worlds, through six systems and two light-years. A mottled brown with only a hint of the yellow that adorned the female, he wasn’t the prettiest prize. But the end of a line. “Priceless.”

*

She watched the shadow through the doorway, felt the life drain from her mate. The thief had stolen her post-coital meal, sealing her fate. Her brood would make a delightful parting gift.

 

A World Eater tale.
My first contribution to Friday Fictioneers  organized by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 100 words. Photo prompt. To see other’s responses to the prompt go here.
Photo Copyright – Shaktiki Sharma

A Pleasure to Burn #Flash Fiction

~ carlbystrom@live.com ~ 7 Comments

Reading Time: 2 minutes

She threw the token onto the pile in the center of the table.

Chisholm froze. “You serious?”

“I’m always serious,” she said, letting an amused smile curl one corner of her mouth as the eyebrow above it raised. “Even when I’m playing.”

“Especially when she’s playing,” chimed Davis. He’d folded on the previous round, his tongue, and his wisdom, loosened by whiskey. A tight player when he was sober, Davis had dropped to two gold pieces after ordering his fourth glass. “Serious like a dog star…”

Chisholm shot Davis a glance to shut him up and leaned into the light to pick up the small figurine. Continue reading “A Pleasure to Burn #Flash Fiction” →

Unseen – Three Line Tales

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Reading Time: < 1 minute

She might have laughed at how readily they followed the ruse had she intended the test to remain un-passed.

So it turned that a few words printed on a card pointed them back from whence they’d come – the framed, the windowed, the doored – and locked her in her loneliness.

Instead, she comforted herself with the dream of an impossible friend who paused to breathe, followed the signs instead of the sign, and fumbled upon the invisible line that looped through the rusting ring.

 

Photo by Fleur Treurniet via Unsplash
Three Line Tales, Week 57