Herbert wandered, lost in thought. He came to a fork in the road. Confused, he bent and picked it up. Fine silverware, no sign of tarnish. Curious.
"Well?" said a voice from below. Herbert glanced down to see a kneeling man in what had once been a fine suit, now dirty and bedraggled, straining at the seams to contain the immense girth of its owner. Indeed, it was odd he hadn't seen the man, so large was he. His mouth was smeared with dirt.
"Well," the man said again, "start eating."
Eventually, Herbert regretted taking an extra cake at tea.
Nua was disconcerted when she entered Tyo's apartment. "Last week this
was a shitty economy with a roach problem," she said, eyeing the solid
gold fountain bubbling with Dom Perignon. Overhead, a flock of
phoenixes sang classic Limp Bizkit songs with full orchestration.
well," Tyo shrugged. "I found the old Telnet server God used to make
the universe. Dude never changed his password. Old people and
computers, right? Family members and birthdays, t'cha." Tyo spat and
laughed. A diamond robot scurried out to clean the marble.
"Twelve twenty-five?" Nua asked.
"Jeez, how Americanized are you? One over zero, babe."
"What we're primarily interested in," said Neeling, stepping cautiously across the feed-yard, "is how you managed to cross in the phoenix. They're rare, finicky eaters, and ? most pertinently ? parthenogenic. We'd never managed to even get one to survive long in captivity. How did you manage it?"
Clem shrugged. "Patience."
There was a commotion to the side. One of the birds was standing stiff, hiccuping. Neeling stared. "For myself, I suppose I might ask... why?"
The distressed bird emitted a single, sharp cry, then burst into brief flame. Clem stepped in and plucked up the sizzling body, now denuded. "Self-cookin' chickens."
The expedition to the polar entrance of the hollow Earth went as smooth as silk. Even the descent had been no trickier than expected, the zeppelin inflating without issue and only a few moments of upsetting free-fall when the pressure differential started to collapse the bag. Now they were landed safely on the safe green sward of one of the interior continents, and the Turing Automatic Servant was working to translate the language of the short, fuzzy bipeds that dwelt there.
"They want to know," the robot said in its metallic voice, "how we got out of the hollow universe."
There will be short stories and very short stories. The short stories will be from 1000 words up and will be rare. The very short stories are what I'm calling flitterfics. They will be posted whenever I have a chance, hopefully at least twice a week.
All material is under a Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike license. Write your own, paint a picture, sing a song; just link back to me at some point and we're solid.