There’d be no dancing in the pub that night. Air quality alerts had been on “Severe” for the past three months, and the popular Sorrowing Gnome, with its airtight construction, was filled with exhausted workers. Pub owner Tommy Finn leaned an elbow against the bar and stared at the TV above.
He lay the quill down beside his Manifesto, reaching to close the cap on the near-empty inkwell. Continue reading “But the People Can’t Wait”
They leaned over the kitchen table, matching bookends on either side of volumes of generations. NPR broadcasters mumbled background from the kitchen counter. Continue reading “Bananas/No Bananas”
Dripping slabs of watermelon are handed to overheated children, and hailstorms rip through vinyl siding. Continue reading “The Shining Golden Pig”
“You’re telling me there are seven new human-habitable planets, a mere 40 years away light-speed distance?” She looked at him, eyebrow raised. Continue reading “Migration to ‘TRAPPIST-1’?”
There was little light in the cellar, but it was nothing to the darkness of the army of boot heels sinking into the bloody ground overhead. Continue reading “What Darkness Inspires”
“Enough of that,” he snapped off the television and stepped onto the back porch. Easing into a wooden rocking chair, he cupped his hands around his coffee, Continue reading “Worth Preserving”
She wrapped her hands around the hand-thrown mug, coffee scent misting the still-cold morning in an exhausted cloud. The metro newspaper lay splayed before her on the kitchen table, moaning headlines and sub-stories of international terror threats, environmental ruin, domestic violence, a floundering economy, and the collapse of another small local non-profit. Continue reading “All the News That’s Fit to Print”