Singin’ in the Upper Paleolithic

Of the sixteen time machines in operation, only one played a video of someone tap-dancing.  The machine itself wasn’t much to marvel at; in fact, it looked like a space heater from the 1970’s, just with a fancier coat of paint and 6,380 small wires snaking out of its base and entering all kinds of unusual places around the laboratory.  Some went into sockets, some hugged the wall and left the room, and others rose into the air dangerously enough to get tagged with black and orange warning stickers. Continue reading

Micro-story#2: Swapocalypse

He was used to roaring bonfires and dripping spits of meat, but for now a trashcan fire would have to do.  He was used to castle halls or at least inns that smelled of warm cider and hay, but for now a classroom full of overturned desks in the junior high school would have to do. Continue reading

Paused Fire

My pager went off.  Both our faces forgot what emotions they were supposed to be expressing and sunk.  Our perfect moment shattered by that obnoxious beeping.  Why did it have to be now?  Why did whatever maniac who was blowing up whichever politician pick now?  It’s as if our moment was his countdown.  Drop to one knee… 3.  Open the blue velvet box with the paused water ring that cost me four months’ pay… 2.  Ask her, “Will you marry me?”… 1.  Boom.  Pause.

50 hours until crystallization Continue reading

A Long Wait for Meatballs

I’ve got a couple short stories to tell you… well not exactly short.  They were short for me, just a few minutes or hours; they were painfully long for everyone else, sometimes days and sometimes years.

You can have the legal details first.  Legally, my name is Clarence Under.  I was born black to white parents, which my father was pretty upset about.  He left for a while but eventually came back.  Legally, I’m married to a fantastic woman named Alberta.  She co-owns a garden supply shop with one of her chatty friends.  (I think all the plants there do well because she’s always talking at them… I heard that makes plants grow) Alberta’s second job is worrying because, legally, I’m a police officer. Continue reading