At the Lamp-Post_Paradise Screwed._Caffeinated Chemistry_The World From Above
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At the Lamp-Post
The snow crunches under my feet as I struggle with a mouthful of pine needles. “Well, at least the trees haven’t changed,” I mutter, “and it’s still freezing.” I push back branches until I can see my way ahead. Snowflakes drift down, but not enough to blind me. Catching some stray ones on my tongue, I blink away the rest. In front of me, closer than I remember, the old glow casts shadows in the surrounding wood.www.onedoor.cc “I guess that’s as good a place as any to start,” I whisper. Pulling my borrowed fur coat closer around my shoulders, I head for the light. Wind rattles the trees, sneaking down my co...
Paradise Screwed.
Paradise Screwed.“What little I know of it, Voldu, it would have been an era I would have loved. Diverse people mostly getting on with each other. In the broad sense, I mean. They would have squabbled, but that’s what family’s should do. Anyway, I’m sure I would have loved it. Peace and harmony is all very well, but we don’t step out of line at all, in fact, I don’t think I could. I’m sorry they’re gone. I, we, could have done something.”“It wasn’t an era, really, Seebu, it was a civilisation of sorts. It didn’t last long either. Well, not in the sense we think is a long time. Whoever engineer...
Caffeinated Chemistry
Before today, there was not a person I’d ever known who was immune to my superpowers. Every day, hundreds of people walk into my cottage-style shop to order their elixirs from me and, no matter what they order, I give them what they need. They don’t seem able to function without my potions and are often rude before they get them, but I like the hiss of the steam seeping out of metal and the rich scent in the air, so I deal with their early-morning crankiness. After they get their potion, though, they are always, always pleased. I lift my most recent concoction into the air and I holler out int...
The World From Above
Engineers. Inventors. Nomads. Survivors. There were many names for those left of humanity, but they called themselves Clingers. They clung desperately to the last vestiges of hope, of survival, too stubborn to quit. When the apocalypse had come that fateful day so many years ago and the ground became too dangerous to live on, they rose into the air on their blimps, their planes, anything. Anything to get away. They had made an oath that day. That day they would survive, because screw nature.Starling lay atop the glass cargo bay doors of the smallest blimp in the Clinger fleet. He ...