A Job of Work by Salvatore Difalco
Part of my responsibilities included watching over the people in hibernation. Checking gauges, testing the surface tension of the Plexiglass housing, monitoring moisture and so on
Continue readingClassic and Contemporary Stories
Part of my responsibilities included watching over the people in hibernation. Checking gauges, testing the surface tension of the Plexiglass housing, monitoring moisture and so on
Continue readingHer small chest woke her. The heart rattling inside it. Like an alarm clock palpitating in secrecy, until the time came that she could no longer ignore it.
Continue readingFreshly dead, she was pinned to the desk by a knife. Smears of blood oozed between his fingers and dripped to the floor.
Continue readingThey did not give me money.
There was never a version in which they were going to give me money.
Continue readingIn the early 1990s I had just emerged from a long-term relationship (my first as, and with, a young gay man) that ended with more of a whimper than a bang. Being pro-active by nature, and more social than I am now, I decided that my sister and closest friends and I
Continue readingThe year before, she was like the last prom dress left hanging on the rail, a bit sad but still hopeful. Then he walked into her life, all clichéd–tall, dark, and handsome
Continue reading“United Space-Service ship USS-4271 calling … Mayday … Mayday … This is Space-Patrol astronaut John Plantain … we are in low orbit around IO, we have meteorite damage, Auto-Nav’s not working and we have less than forty minutes before our low orbit causes Auto-Ignite to fire
Continue readingI hope you don’t mind me calling you that, but it’s how we referred to you all these years. We assumed you were dead; lost in the war with so many others. Your letter was full of news, and we hunger for more. Especially about your “whole new family”
Continue reading“Is it working? This is Lieutenant Cypher of the Echo-114 squadron. If you’re hearing this transmission, it means we’re lost. I’m the only one left. More specifically, I don’t know where all the others have gone.
Continue readingOne evening in late October, I thrashed my old rusty scythe at my overgrown lawn, whilst practising the odd golf swing. That’s when the flying saucer arrived. It hovered, casting shadows. Startled, I struck my foot, saved only by the scythes bluntness.
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