Night-Time is Always the Worst: Ch. 2

The asthmatic death rattle of the air-scrubber was a comfortable sound, a beacon home in the crushing waves of the street.  It had guided him home every night now for eight years to the same drafty building and the same putrid stairs, and the same motherless little girl at the top who made it all worthwhile.  Clara was eleven and all that came with it.  Her father would give his life to save hers.

Night-Time is Always the Worst: Ch. 1

“What's the word, Feng,” he asked the alien as it hovered back and forth, stirring this pot...mixing that... “I just told the blue boy I ain't seen nothing,” he mumbled.  “You eating tonight?”

The White Cobra: The Lair of the Cobra

We pushed our way through the shattered city. All around us were the signs of a race without hope, an entire nation devoid of both love and life. "Is this what they saw at Pompeii?" I wondered. Men and women both, dead before they died.

The Wolf’s Cry: Chapter Four

"My friends, guests, neighbors, jokebrunts, et cetera, et cetera, I have asked you to come because Things are Happening," said the satyr. 

The White Cobra: The City of Cobras

Then a roar like the fall of a second Atlantis tore the jungle behind us.  The great pillar stood shuddering, and then it fell, smashing branches and saplings on its way.  It shook the ground when it fell, and the treetops parted ...