The Survivors

-160 words

In the aftermath of the global nuclear war the earth wept toxic radiation, killing the remaining living things slowly and painfully.

Poisonous gases weakened the planet’s struggling species worldwide. Once lush forests were transformed into wastelands. Skyscrapers that once kissed the heavens now reduced to steel skeletons. Human shadows etched on concrete, gruesome portraits depicting their last moment of life.

The human race had finally fought it’s last world war. Chaos reigned as the last vestiges of civilizations turned to dust. History erased with no trace for space explorers from other worlds to see. No record of humanity.

No. The only survivors will not be able to talk with any celestial visitors. They’ll be flattened under surfaces of all kinds, scurrying around and scavenging in dark places unseen by prying eyes. Just like their ancestors for millenniums past. They were built to last. That’s why cockroaches survived man’s follies. They were the one species mankind could not drive into extinction.

Rebellion of the Clocks

time was lost when earth’s clocks rebelled

against constraints man’s science brought to bear

triggering deafening alarms and chimes everywhere

shattering clocks of every type and style

leaving broken timekeepers behind in a pile

of wristwatches

pocket watches

novelty watches

and other mechanical cousins

products of man’s efforts to capture time

such impunity

bending universal physics like salt water taffy

in order to control society

making people account for every hour of the day

and when to pray

until cosmic forces finally intervened

against the invention by human beings

Kangaroo Versus an AI Go Cart

the gods gathered one day to stage a race

between a Kangaroo and an AI Go Cart in Space

the track was located in the Milky Way

and the race was scheduled to last a day

the Kangaroo’s distant-eating hops set the pace

during the first few hours of the epic race

but the AI Go Cart went into another gear

soon it was watching the kangaroo in it’s rear mirror

to the delight of some of the gods gathered there

who had entered the longshot AI Go Cart on a dare!

The Fickle Gods Own Bartender

600 words –

“I’ll have a scotch on the rocks when your done serving those sissies at the end of the bar!” a belligerent customer bellowed.

Willie the bartender glanced over his shoulder at the loudmouth on the other end of the bar while continuing to serve the two men beer and pretzels.

He’d seen his type before. A mean drunk. Rather than violently kick him out, which he had every right to do, Willie walked over to him and looked him straight in the eye. Something in his stare caused the rowdy customer to instantly calm down.

“You sure you haven’t had enough for the night buddy?” he asked. The would-be customer slid off the bar stool and muttered that he was taking his business elsewhere as his unsteady legs propelled him towards the door.

In Willie’s world, the bar was a waiting room for restless souls, not yet gone on to any reward, and not likely too either. The tortured souls who sat at his bar looked for advise and solace. They were confused and he found that most were looking for heaven. They came to the bar to learn about their next step in the process of passing from one life to another.

They told him their life stories over shots of tequila and whiskey; wondering why their drinks didn’t make the misery of this alcoholic purgatory disappear.

Then there were those carefree souls who laughed and partied through the endless nights, calling Willie, “St. Peter,” and begging him to escort them through invisible Pearly Gates. But it wasn’t Willie’s job. All he was supposed to do was listen and offer his two-cents worth while serving endless alcoholic drinks.

Long ago Willie realized his karma was damaged beyond repair. That was why the gods (there had to be more than one) put him where he was. A lifelong alcoholic who drank himself to death and was resurrected as a messenger between worlds. What irony. The gods sense of humor was impossible for Willie to understand. He was a hostage for eternity.

One day all that changed.

The god of chaos sent other deities spinning through dimensions and worlds unborn, in a burst of cosmic energy that tore souls loose from the places they were stuck. Adrift, the souls turned to space, eagerly looking for new landings. New starts.

Willie found himself on earth again. It was 1923 and he owned a whiskey distillery that supplied gangsters from Chicago to New York. As he watched the last truck pull out, packed with crates of his signature booze, Willie had a nagging feeling that the good times weren’t going to last. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams, but business was just too good to walk away from. Besides, he felt alcohol was part of his destiny. His rise to glory.

Willie was on to something. He just didn’t realize it then.

When the mobsters attacked his distillery one night he was killed playing a game of poker with his two bodyguards. His suddenly rich wife buried him quietly.

Dimensions shifted. Alternate universes collided. The gods fought for time and space. New worlds were springing up in far away solar systems. Galaxies groaned as solar systems stretched and contracted, collecting stars like seashells on earth’s beaches.

And Willie found himself pouring a beer from behind a long mahogany bar while listening to a sad soul’s story. He sighed because he knew it was going to take a very long time.

The gods shrill laughter echoed throughout the heavens, and meteors continued to scream through outer space on a mission to mock mankind.

Space Race

100 words –

The metal beasts that carried humanoid species and humans inside, careened off asteroids and collided on sharp turns defying gravity while cornering at Mach 27.

No time limits. The Race in Space was based on an intergalactic feud started eons ago over a long forgotten reason. Captains and crews abroad leviathan cruisers lived and died, but their projeny carried on the great race that never had a finishing place.

The cosmic irony was wasted on the diverse participants who had long ago forgotten what deeds their forefathers attempted to win the race. Their descendants also doomed to follow, lemming-like, for eternity.

Dawn of the Gods

In a time before time was even kept, the gods assembled on earth.

They came from throughout the universe, and galaxies far away. Each a splendid specimen of their race seeking dominion over the man creatures crawling out of caves.

The competition turned to war as the gods fought in the sky and on the earth. Conquering gods rose, and fell, with civilizations. Their otherworldly presence having influenced cultures from many nations.

The gods could be bloody, or benign.

Very few gods are worshipped today. Most have been slain by atheists. The end time draws near for the rest.

Faulty Memory

The two government men asked Morris to tell his story again. 

I was trying to start my lawnmower when they suddenly appeared.”

Who appeared?

The space men. Both had big black eyes and funny shaped heads with no mouths! They wanted me go with them.

No mouths? How did they ask you anything?”

A blank face. “I don’t remember…”

Why don’t you go home and get some rest? You don’t look so good.

Morris walked out of the FBI building. He was confused. Uneasy.

“Do you think the human will talk with anyone else?” the alien asked when he left.