He woke up early in the morning and before anything else walked over to the screen on the far wall, palming it open with a tired and noncommittal wave. He moved his open hand over the sense pads arranged at an angle inside, left to
This is the tale, as it is told. Once upon a time – for how else ought we to begin – all folk lived in the forest. They tilled and sowed and raised meat for the table. They ate hearty of the things that grew;
As soon as he wakes up, he checks the monitor to be sure it has charged overnight.
The freezing tickle of snow on her neck, and she pulled the scarf closer around her. The breeze with needled teeth, nipping. The slow shush of the ground at her feet. The distant whisper of people, far off. The voice the leaves make, as they
She woke, the phrase repeating in her head. Because the street. It was not difficult to remember Jason, even after he died. Twists of metal, and blood, and that sharp acrid smell before the flame. Because the street, she thinks, remembering. But nothing comes. Nothing
Waiting. In the cold. In the dark. Her breath before her, fog. Her fingers, brittle twigs of ice. The last glow of summer sky slides like melting snow below the horizon. The sky is darkest blue. Each breath, a moment. Each moment, an hour; a