***Our latest book, “A Short Burst” is 100 pages with 73 short, flash-fiction sci-fi stories and 64 illustrations, most of the art originally published in Analog and Asimov’s Sci-Fi Magazines. It is our 4th book and the best one yet. It makes an excellent holiday gift, even if they don’t like sci-fi. Find it at our Etsy shop at www.etsy.com and search; EEWbooks. -Marsha
My Best Foot Backwards
I call my left foot Lefty. I’ve always called him Lefty. There’s never been any argument from him and he gets no complaints. We get along just fine, but the other foot, well…it’s like apples and oranges.
My other foot calls himself “Backwards.” I named him Louis but he won’t answer to that. That one is constant trouble! Sure, he has better balance and coordination, heck!…if not for him I’d fall flat on my face. Let’s not even mention my dancing! But Backwards, even as my best foot, is a hand-full (so to speak). He likes randomly kicking things, splashing in mud puddles and somehow, always smells of doggy doo. And “BACKWARDS?”…I don’t even get it. Why call himself Backwards?!?
Now, my other-OTHER foot, my right foot…that bastard! He decided to call himself Backwards TOO!!! What the hell!?! I think that one goes out of his way JUST to piss me off (I can hear him giggling now).
Honestly though, my feet aren’t even the worst of my problems right now…try keeping three wayward hands in check when you’re trying to conquer the world…
***This flash-fiction story and illustration was recently published in our newest book, “A Short Burst.” A rougher version of the image was originally commissioned for the March, 2009 issue of Analog Magazine. Find and buy all our books at our Etsy shop, search EEWbooks. -Marsha
Hans discovered that he could speak with a bear who turned up in his flat last week, as once he got past his initial dread, he understood all that he said. They hit it right off, like lickety-split, just laughing and joking and shootin’ the shit… ’till the bear got hungry and ate his head and now poor Hans is dead.
Not Again…
“Oh man…not again.” said Francis under his breath, as Martin, his room-mate, stood over him, drooling.
His attack was so swift that Francis barely had time to flinch before being stuffed forcibly into Martin’s toothy maw and swallowed whole.
Francis knew he had a little time to think before the digestive process of Martin, who was a fully grown polar bear, kicked into gear, pushed him along it’s hour-long journey, and shat him out again. And really, what had begun as a quiet time for meditation was slowly turning sour as he wondered, more and more, if this little trip was really worth it.
He acknowledged that this WAS in his rental agreement, but seriously! When would Martin develop some self control with his munchies and go make himself a peanut butter sandwich or something? Everybody knew how bad the housing market was, and it was only getting worse, but this ‘fantastic journey’ through the body of a giant circus performer, twice a week, was really not worth affordable rent. He’d had some horrible roommate’s before, but this one was starting to take the cake…uh oh…here we go….. “Yeaaahhhhgh!!!” PFLOOP! “Oooooh, yuck!
***A version of this illustration was originally commissioned in B/W for a story in Analog Magazine back in 2008. It was slated to be republished in our Bludgeon the Clown book with the poem about Hans, but the publisher cut it…it was perfectly good, but not for THAT project. Now, along with a new short flash-fiction story (inspired by the art), it has been published in our new book, A Short Burst. You can find ALL our books at our Etsy shop by going to www.etsy.com and searching EEWbooks. -Marsha
Castigear stood among the stones with his imaginary friend, Joe. Joe was distraught at the loss of his other i-friend, Lucy. She broke while Castigear was playing with her. He ‘might’ have been handling her a little too rough and…..she just broke. He felt a little sad about her. He didn’t want to tell Joe what he’d done, he knew it would hurt his feelings and he liked Joe. He decided to replace Lucy with a new imaginary friend at his earliest opportunity.
These human companions were so fragile…but he was learning so much from them (evolving). He was hooked. It was like an addiction. His peers thought the i-friend program was below their dignity. Most agreed that the last of the humans should be put down but Castigear knew that most of THEM kept their own i-friends – secretly. It would have been a shame to exterminate ALL of them after the war. True, they wasted a lot of resources (like the graveyard they were standing in) but they were clever and highly adaptable and he suspected they might be the key to the future of Robot kind…and either way, with proper conditioning, they made excellent servants and…..soldiers.
***I’m always amazed at the unique perspective our sentient machine friends have on humanity. No one articulates the condition of slavery better. A version of this illustration was first published in the January 2007 issue of Analog Magazine. This flash-fiction short was first posted here in Feb., 2016. You can read it and more like it in our latest book, “A Short Burst” which is available for sale by following the links above to www.sallemander.com. or go right to our Etsy shop at www.etsy.com and search EEWbooks. -Marsha
***This is Forlorn the Robot, a cropped inset from one of the illustrations in our latest book, “A Short Burst.” I guess if you want to see the rest of it (and read the story it goes with), you can just follow the links and buy the book!…or go to etsy.com and search EEWbooks. -Marsha
The room was not large, just a conference room in the library where ten of us sat around a table writing. It was a typical Saturday morning writing workshop and the prompt was: ‘the lyrics to the Star Wars theme.’ The music rattled around my brain easily enough but for some reason I couldn’t recall it ever having lyrics. I swear it NEVER did…did it? I was frustrated. I drew a blank while everyone else was scribbling away…and the music in my head became louder, incessant…persistent…..maddening!
It suddenly stopped when a new sound caught my attention. It was coming from Keith at the other end of the table. There was a tick, tick, ticking that quickly replaced my obsession – in perfect rhythm and beat – to those lyrics, whatever they were…tick, tick, ticka, ticka-ticka, tick, tick. I was tapping my toe on the carpet now…ticka-ticka, tick, tick. Louder and louder it got, tick, ticka, tick…Keith was writing intensely. Tick, tick-ticka. How could he not hear it? Tick-tick, ticka-tick. Was I the only one? Ticka-tick-ticka, tick. Was that smoke coming out of his ears? Tick-tick. Coooool! Ticka-tick-ticka. The ticking got faster as bright beams of light began to emerge from his skull. Tick-ticka-ticka-ticka-tick. It filled the room…blinding me…..ticka-ticka-ticka…BANG!!!!!
Like a mouse in a microwave, the walls, floor and ceiling were suddenly pasted with Keith juice and bits of sticky flesh and bone.
Still, nobody seemed to notice. Everyone just kept on writing even as a slippery chunk of bowel slid down Carl’s face and a bloody ear clung to the end of Joe’s pencil. Keith’s head and chest were gone and his fluids were squirting Susan’s cheek…but he kept on writing as well. Susan paused to open an umbrella and brush gore off her laptop, unmoved.
Everything was quiet for a few minutes as pens scribbled on wet paper and blood dribbled and pooled in my under shorts….then the ticking started again…but this time it sounded like it was coming from Nancy…..tick, tick, tick…coooool!
***This full color illustration was originally published as the cover for Analog Magazine’s Jan/Feb 2012 issue. It is featured now in our 4th book, “A Short Burst”. The story is based on true events that go on from 10am to 12pm every Saturday morning at the Montclair, NJ Library. All are welcome to write…to tick…and eventually explode. Buy our books at www.sallemander.com. -Marsha
The landscape was barren. Nothing but tusks and the shattered exoskeletons of the creatures that once populated these plains. Wherever an animal fell, there it rotted. There were still faint tread marks in the dirt. The ones who did this were systematic and efficient.
Men rolled out in heavy transports with ugly weapons, shooting the creatures for sport. With flame and chemical, they sterilized the surface. Nothing could survive it…not a blade of grass, not an insect, not even a germ…nothing was left to interfere.
There was a special mineral in the soil and they wanted it. It was dynamic, flexible and highly conductive…more valuable to them than life, obviously. It changed everything, replacing and expanding human technology over night, even MY brain was made of it. It made them rich, but to get it they stripped this land down to its bare bones like a swarm of locusts. And when they were done, they abandoned it and moved on.
I too was abandoned…damaged during the final round-up. One of those desperate creatures lunged at me, trying to escape while we slaughtered them… but I was not worth fixing. It was cheaper to replace me. I was left in a trash with all the other broken tools. By the time I managed to repair myself, they were long gone.
I don’t know where to go or what to do now. I’m a relic in the wasteland among the tusks. Hopeless… but for the tiny sprouts that emerge from wherever my footprints have broken the hard, scorched crust… end.
***The red sketch is the approved rough drawing for an illustration originally published in the May 2012 issue of Analog Magazine, the final image, along with it’s new short story can now be found on page 74 in our new book, “A Short Burst.” You can find and buy all our books at www.sallemander.com or go straight to etsy.com and search EEWbooks. -Marsha
The Issue was listing badly in a failing orbit around Jupiter. She was dead in the water and her distress signal cut out abruptly on our approach. She was a heavy freighter loaded with uranium ore, bound for the refineries on Mars and long overdue…something didn’t feel right.
We circled The Issue slowly about ten miles out – but with our engines hot in case it was a trap. There were raiders in this sector who often used derelicts to stage their attacks. There was no response to my hail, no wi-fi, no beams…no strobes. Sensors showed cold engines and no (human) life signs. I found a weird glitch in the data, something unrecognizable….but not enough to put the crew off their prize. The salvage on The Issue would make every man on board filthy rich. I was the only one still arguing for caution but none of the men wanted the opinion of someone like me. I was property and was not entitled to a share anyway.
When the Captain (despite my misgivings) gave the order to board, we moved in and docked with reckless abandon. A combat team stood at the ready as I popped the air lock. They made me go first. They always made the android go first. I was the most expendable…expensive but not valuable.
And…as I swung the hatch open, a sudden violent flood of spidery greenish critters swarmed through the airlock by the hundreds. I guess I didn’t taste good because they left me alone and flowed past me, devouring the crew as they went. I waited. It took them 19 minutes to scour the ship from bow to stern and I listened to each and every man screaming his last – the men who treated me like shit for two solid years – the men who sneered at my warnings.
I waited…to see what this NEW crew had to offer. It couldn’t be any worse than the last one…..this could be interesting!
***Above, we’ve posted the rough sketch sequence for an illustration originally commissioned by Analog Magazine for their May 2006 issue. Now it is a feature in our new book, “A Short Burst” along with it’s new flash-fiction short story (also posted here). It is one of our favorite robot stories. Find “A Short Burst” and all our books at www.sallemander.com. -Marsha
Nothing actually happened for a solid fifteen minutes after Eddie drank the formula. He turned to us (once again) with a forlorn look and asked, “Any change yet? How do I look?”
We knew he was crazy. He was one of those people: perpetually dissatisfied, determined to prove that he was ‘special’. He wanted fame, popularity, success (despite being an already brilliant scientist) and he was driven…you know, crazy…AND he had full use of the company’s laboratory. He had access to all the good stuff too; plasma reactor, laser diffractional transmogrifier, crazy glue – not to mention ebola, thermite and flu vaccine…and I think our awkward, mild mannered (crazy) Eddie used all of it on this new batch.
By the sixteenth minute, everything changed and Eddie’s fondest wish was realized. He began mutating wildly, spreading outward in every direction, emitting the strangest squeaking moan. He shook, twisted and bloated. He grew tendrils, sprouted claws and screeched Latin gibberish from three of his seven worm-haired monkey faces as horns emerged from his leathery spine. He puffed a sweet yellow smoke, shed tufts of pink fur and dribbled buckets of gooey puss. He was a frightful sight…but he was just sooooo excited we didn’t have the heart to terminate him.
When he finally slowed and stabilized, he turned all of his seventeen eyes-on-a-stalk to us and in a clever series of musical farts, he asked, “Okay!…How do I look now?”
***The featured rough blue sketch is the original rough for an illustration that was supposed to be a 2 page spread for a story in Asimov’s Sci-Fi Magazine, just as those corporate cheapskates were choosing to eliminate all interior art (to save money). I managed to convince them to let me do it as a cover, which was my first cover for the company. The story above and the final art is featured in my new book, “A Short Burst”. Find it and buy it by going to etsy.com and searching EEWbooks. -Marsha
***A lot of friends have expressed an interest in the method we use to create our book illustrations, and frankly, often seem more impressed by the rougher sketches and designs. They seem to make a more human connection with people. This was the design process for the cover of our latest book, “A Short Burst”. A version of it, very similar to the blue image, was published for a story in Analog Magazine in September, 2006. The book is a clever collection of short, flash-fiction stories…illustrated. You can find it and buy it at our Etsy shop, just go to etsy.com and search EEWbooks. Thanks. -Marsha