We Believe in Charity

We Believe in Charity

June 12, 2123: 10:33 AM

Our unit staggered through the ruins of London, covered in dirt and bloody bandages. The latest skirmish with the Earth-Isolationists had been brutal. A precision blast from a fission gun had destroyed my uniform and two good officers, and the only indication that I was the woman in charge was the unit still following me. I owed it to them to not let my injuries show or let them know that with no supplies and only a few fission weapons of our own we were open targets. We turned south out of Piccadilly Circus, taking cover behind one of the meter-high cracks caused by the bombs in the early decades of the war.

Fiction: Sunday Morning in Harville Place

Sunday Morning in Harville Place

The roar of the motorcycle caught the attention of everyone in town. Harville Place was one of those small towns where everyone was known to each other by sight, if not by name. And so, since everyone knew that the only inhabitant of the town who owned a motorcycle was Mr. Frederick, who was in Florida for the month, there was an immediate curiosity about the person on the Harley Davidson.

“I bet he’ll cause trouble,” Mrs. Higley said as the bike screeched past the grocery store.

“You think every stranger will cause trouble,” her daughter said, rolling her eyes. Still, she kept a wary gaze on the back of the leather jacket.

The mayor prayed that the rider would behave, the sheriff prayed that he wouldn’t, and the Women’s Auxiliary Club prayed that he wouldn’t run over any of the decorations for the annual street fair.

Fiction: Space Out Homeland

Space Out: Homeland

            “What,” Captain Gabi said, “is that.”

            She was looking out the viewport of the front of the ship, where a large purple swirling mass was hovering ominously.

            “It’s an anomaly,” Skreet Akar said helpfully.

            Gabi huffed. “Well, I know that,” she said, “What kind of anomaly is it?”

            Skreet fiddled with some dials at his workstation, looked at a readout, then said, “An anomalous one.”

            “An anomalous anomaly,” Gabi repeated, “Thank you so much. I’m so glad I picked you to be my helmsman.”

            Skreet gave her a lazy salute and spun around in his chair.