Bird Watcher

“Shh! Listen!”

Hank waited obediently. The sounds of the forest echoed in the gathering twilight. “I don’t hear anything,” he said.

“The woodpecker,” said Jeb, his face intent.

“Oh,” said Hank. “You take up bird-watching?”

“Remember what happened at the site today?” said Jeb, seemingly changing the subject.

Hank gave Jeb a strange look. “Of course. Mechanical failure. Two days with no work, which sucks.”

Jeb snatched up his notebook and began scribbling. “There’s going to be more failures. Soon.”

“How do you know?”

Jeb held up the page, where he had transcribed a series of letters. “It’s Morse Code.”

Ragnarok

He’d ignored the signs. He was putting that part of his life behind him. Away with mysticism. Away with supernatural rubbish. No more kowtowing in the name of an archaic and misbegotten faith.

And so he’d paid no attention. The roosters had crowed three times; he set his alarm clock earlier so they didn’t awaken him. The hound cried in the woods; he installed a fence. News of hurricanes and earthquakes in far-off countries were easily ignored.

Thus, he was unprepared when he looked up at the night sky and saw the moon disappearing slowly into the vast, fanged maw…

Storm

There was a flash and a distant rumble. “Get down,” Maron hissed, tugging at Alec’s shirttail.

“What’s happening?”

“Just get away from the window,” Maron said.

Lightning flashed. The tree on the corner burst into flames. There was a roaring from overhead, like a jet-liner landing. Alec sobbed with fear.

“It’s okay,” Maron said. “As long as we stay quiet. It won’t last long.”

An enormous sandal-clad foot crushed a car on the street outside. Thunder rolled as the bearded figure drew another lightning bolt from the quiver on his back.

“I hate when Mom and Dad fight,” Alec whispered.

Every Child Needs One

Steve held the box in his hands. “Hours of fun!” it promised. The doll grinned up at him from behind its cellophane window.

A scruffy man in a ragged coat sidled up and began shoveling the pink boxes into a shopping cart. He stared at Steve. “You gonna buy that one?” he asked.

Steve edged away. “I was thinking about it for my niece. ‘Hours of fun,’ and all.”

The man laughed humorlessly. “Truth in advertising! A few hours of joy. It doesn’t last. And when it stops…” Tears welled up in his eyes. “It’s worse than anything,” he whispered.

Rain, Rain

Wherever he went, it rained. It became somewhat incongruous when all around him the city was lit in bright sunlight while he slouched along in his own personal gloom. His hair was always soaked. His shoes squished when he walked. Even inside a building, the light dimmed as the cloud waited outside like a lost puppy.

The girl at the counter placed his burger platter in front of him. “Was she beautiful?” she asked.

He looked at her in startlement. “She is beautiful,” he said, pointing to the delicate raindrops that traced his name down the outside of the window.

Sunrise by the Crossroads

Jerry and Sam, in their orange reflective jackets, were establishing the perimeter, sprinkling scented oil from their paper coffee cups. Their chant could be heard over the crackle of the radio and the rush of traffic. “…the painted lines, the rules confine…”

“We shouldn’t even have to refresh the hex yet,” Carlie griped. “Last month’s spell would’ve held fine against normal traffic.”

“Lotsa powerful spirits bound to cars these days.”

“Fuckin’ Ford,” said the foreman. “Everyone knows bull demons are hard as hell to keep under control, but they just had to have the biggest, studliest cars on the market.”

And Likewise an End

“Every story has a beginning,” he said. The farm was humble, from the tumbledown shack to the tottering barn. A handful of chickens, two bone-thin pigs, and an elderly cow were all the livestock that graced its grounds. He grimaced. It was time to get to work.

“Every…” he muttered, slopping the pigs. “…story…” he sighed, milking the cow. “…has a beginning,” he growled, gathering the meager eggs.

He waited for many years. The farm limped on, never prospering. He looked out on the barren fields and tugged at his white beard, wondering when his beginning would ever find him.

Creatures of Night, Brought to Light

“What's this one?”

“The pride of our collection, ma'am! Read that plaque.”

“Vam-pire?”

“Yes, indeed! The dark prince of the night! The scourge of mankind! The bloodsucking fiend who haunts your nightmares!”

The vampire pulled a sour expression, sitting on his high-backed chair.

“Back, nightmare! Avaunt!” cried the zookeeper, drawing his stun-gun. “You shall not harm these innocent people!”

“You're being melodramatic, Derrick,” sighed the vampire.

Derrick smiled cruelly. “The people paid for a show, Count. I think you've got a stake in this.”

The vampire's lip curled. “I hate you.”

A New Lifestyle

There was a susurration of wings and an irritated cooing as the flock rippled into the air. They settled back a few feet away and resumed pecking at the ground. Three of the larger pigeons had claimed half of a bagel from a nearby garbage can and guarded it zealously.

“Hey,” said a brown pigeon.

“Howdy,” said the newcomer, a common gray.

“So why'd you bring the human?”

“Oh, him?” The pigeon looked over his shoulder. “He's a new guy. I'm showing him the ropes.”

The man waved. “I've got nowhere else to go.”

Raventongue

He captured a raven, which pleased him. Ravens were wise and knew many secrets. He split the creature's tongue to give it the power of speech. Then he waited for it to gain its voice. It never spoke.

He tried pleading. He offered it gifts. He cursed and threatened. Nothing worked.

He neared the end of his life. The sullen bird ruffled its feathers as he lay dying. It cleared its throat. Weak as he was, he lifted himself up to hear the words of the raven.

The raven met his eager gaze. “Asshole,” it said as he died.

Lunacy

Wow. So I was traveling for longer than I thought, and when I checked, I hadn't actually updated for Thursday, either. Mea culpa! I will fix this immediately.

---

“What's that noise?” Frank the orderly pulled open the viewing slot. “And where did you get that jacket?”

The inmate blinked wide blue eyes. “It was my uncle's, before he died.”

“That's not what I meant,” Frank snapped. “How did you get in here?”

“I show them the truth,” said the inmate sadly, “but they never understand.” He glanced up. “Perhaps I could show you?”

Frank shook his head, but it was too late. When they found him, he was babbling softly to himself, wearing a leather jacket over his white uniform.

Night

She turned on every lamp in the house, flooding the rooms with light. Only the basement was left unlit. She cracked the door, allowing light to trickle down the stairs and pool at the bottom. Her hand fumbled for the light switch.

A hand grasped her wrist. She cried out and pulled away; the dark man pulled her close to the shadowed gap.

“Do you know why you run?” he hissed. “You do not fear the unknown. That is for children. You run because, somewhere inside, you know what we do out there, in the dark, to keep you safe.”

Wolves

I have not tracked an animal in many years. The alley stinks of piss and car exhaust. It was here, according to the newspapers. An animal attack, they wrote. I know better. Our tales tell of them, the Shadows-at-Night, the Wolves-Who-Walk-Like-Men. I have spent my life hunting and slaying them.

“Old man!”

A half-dozen youths surround me. I begin to speak, to tell them I have no money, when I see the glint of their yellow eyes.

And I know. The wolves who walk like men are not the true enemy. Not compared to men who think they are wolves.

Currents

The lord sat by the pond beneath the cherry tree. The offending servant was brought before him. He, too, trembled.

“Do you see the water?” said the lord.

The servant nodded.

“It is still, yet it moves. The currents are not visible to your eyes. If you were a fish, you would know them, here, in your heart.”

“I have not the eyes of a god, Lord.”

“I will give you a gift,” said the lord. He gestured. There was a soft sigh. “I hope,” he told the new fish in the pond, “you will learn to see more clearly.”

Masks

The mask itched abominably. He hated wearing it. He could barely remember what it was like before the mask, before he saw its hateful image in every mirror and storefront window. He remembered his own face, though. He’d never forget that. He’d promised himself.

One day, he took the mask off. He stared at it; empty eyes, half-smile, pallid coloring. He walked to the hall mirror, trembling eagerly.

His face was a pale white circle, locked in a half-smile. He glanced down. In his hands, he held his face, his old familiar face.

“What did you expect?” sneered the mask.

The Fast and the Ferrous

“Quite a machine I’ve paid for,” Professor Cuthbert said. He adjusted the automatic fargoggles. “Just look at that dust cloud.”

“The only way Alberforth’s pile of scrap will best the Megaton Whirlwind is if a piece of moon-cheese breaks off, tumbles to Earth, and crushes poor Gupti in his driving harness.” Dartelby adjusted his monocle. Unlike the Professor’s bulky goggles, the Electro-Monocle’s magnification lenses were built in, lending the whole a stylish minimalism which almost made up for its lack of functionality.

“Balderdash,” sniffed the Professor. “The moon colony fixed that crumbling problem years ago. Turned out to be mice.”

What Happens During Vacations?

Rich slapped his forehead. “Wait, I almost forgot to confuse the centipede.”

“Do what now?”

He opened the cellar door. The entirety of the basement was filled with it. The writhing, segmented body looped around itself countless times, an infinity of slender legs rippling as the tangled mass churned. Rich grabbed a basketball from the bin. He aimed and threw. The coils surged in response.

“The head goes after motion,” Rich explained. “I try to put three knots or so in it before leaving every morning. Not sure what it is, but I think it’s better if it keeps busy.”

Papercraft War

“Messy business,” sighed Officer Redcomb. He finished his folded paper bird with a flourish and tossed it into the air. It flew away, taking his report to Dispatch.

“Who could fold something like that?” asked Lowry. He gestured at the red-stained paper hilt, still quivering in the corpse’s chest. “I thought the patterns were banned.”

“It’s the Dijh-Atahls,” Redcomb growled. “Paperless bastards, flooding the market with weapon schematics. The Thousand Cuts is too good for ‘em, I say.”

Overhead, the paper claxon began to buzz.

“Air Raid!” cried Lowry. They dove for the shelter as the tri-fold planes swarmed overhead…

The Frog and the Scorpion

“There is no other way through the asteroid field,” Scorpio radioed.

Batrach thumbed the comm-switch. “Fine. Dock with us and we’ll play escort. But if your weapon ports so much as twitch, we’re spacing you.”

They were halfway through, the hardened shell repelling a dozen strikes every second, when an alert went off from the docking bay. A full-stream protonic pulse had been deflected. Batrach slammed the comm-switch. “Gotcha, maniac! We know about your Stinger Beam, Scorpio. We had special shielding installed just for it.”

“I see,” said Scorpio. “Then you leave me no choice,” he said, activating the self-destruct.

Prayers Rising Like Smoke

“What’s that?” Sammy pointed to the small pile of rocks atop the culvert.

“It’s to keep the water from flowing in the wrong places,” Mom told him. She chivvied him along. “We’ve still got to get washed up.”

Sammy knew an altar when he saw one. It looked just like the one in the illustrated children’s Bible. He veered close to the tunnel as they passed. Yes, there were black marks on the top, where the offering was burnt. And strange lines, like someone had dragged a handful of knives through the soot. Claws?

Something splashed in the watery darkness.