Tag Archives: illustration

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

First Contact

1 Comment

(book excerpt)

The Masset met the Earth delegation on their own carrier deck, looking formal and engaged, as if this was their actual ‘first contact’ with Earthers.  They knew better.  Admiral Geller noticed how big and beefy this group of humans was, better than average (his clients would be pleased).  Their encounter suits were unarmed, clearly diplomatic, which was a good sign.

It was inevitable that the Earthers would detect the Masset at some point.  Still, Geller was disappointed.    He had hoped to exploit them for a few more decades.  He was getting very rich.  Hopefully only a change of tactics would be necessary.

With a gesture, Geller invited the Earthers inside, but they insisted on the formalities (it was a really big deal – for them).  Their ambassador introduced himself as Colonel Smith and welcomed them to the Terran Solar System,  tediously explaining that they called their world Earth but that we were all currently orbiting Jupiter.  He offered the esteemed greetings of a long, boring list of political, corporate, and religious luminaries, and with a load of bows and flourishes he droned on through the standard diplomatic script.  Geller responded as expected.  This Col. Smith was testing his patience, but he and his warriors knew the drill…nothing was to happen until everyone was inside.

That’s when he heard Smith say something very odd; “…and thank you Admiral Geller.  The people of Earth thank you personally for all the advanced technology you’ve been sending us…”  And every Masset warrior switched-on to full alert.  This was not what Geller had expected to hear today…but just then his earpiece came alive with the clutter of proximity alerts and his senior officers barking frantic orders. Meanwhile, an Earther ship was de-cloaking just above them.

According to the Rhee Republic, Earth was off -limits.  It was illegal to land there or to fly within the orbital proximity of Jupiter.  Humanity was considered an “emerging culture.” It was either on the brink of advancing to eventually join the Republic…or of catastrophic self-destruction.  Quarantined.

The Masset, however, had commerce to conduct and orders to fill.  They were a diverse culture, but elements of it controlled the Republic’s vast black-market trade cartel…and some people had a taste for Earthers.  The Veen used humans for slave labor, the Binnish used them as lab rats for biomedical research, and the Lumia just found them delicious.  Apparently, enough Earthers had been abducted over the centuries for a strong market demand to develop…and the Masset owned the franchise (for which all Masset benefited).

On the other hand, the Masset were in good standing with the Rhee Republic.  They had helped to repel the last three military invasions, had powerful advanced technology, and were influential in Republic politics… so they had no wish to upset the balance.

That’s why Admiral Geller (who was only a legal consultant at the time), came up with a clever solution around the quarantine law.  Since they couldn’t go to Earth to harvest humans, they would have to ‘lure’ them off-world.  It wasn’t strictly legal, but it would work (and it did for a good long while).

Geller labored for decades, secretly transmitting propaganda to maintain division between Earth’s nation states, while feeding them choice bits of advanced technology to get them off the ground and into space, to explore and colonize.  So, when they started leaving the quarantined area in really profitable numbers, the Masset were there to intercept and abduct them…and nobody was the wiser.

In retrospect, Geller might have miscalculated the adaptability of the Earthers.  He’d never thought them intelligent enough to apply and integrate the technology he sent, into all the different alien ships and technology abandoned on Earth over the centuries.  He certainly had NOT counted on them outmaneuvering him…in an ambush.  Perhaps the Masset had become complacent…

In the time it took for the Earther ship to de-cloak overhead, Admiral Geller had a few additional thoughts:  First, he had never actually given Colonel Smith his name…curious.  Second, the Masset were the only culture with cloaking technology.  Hmmm…and third…wait.  Were those jet-packs they were wearing?

“Thanks again, Geller…” said Colonel Smith, “and have a nice day!”  And on his order, the entire Earth delegation lifted off the deck in perfect formation toward their ship above….and as it pulled away, Geller saw the first of an impressive flight of earth missiles de-cloak before slamming into his ship’s broadside.  As to Geller’s third and final thought, he said, “The Earther MISSILES are cloaked too?  How clever!!!”

***We posted this image a few years ago, but the story is new and written especially for our new book, “A Short Burst.”  It’s one of the longer stories, almost two whole pages.  Burst is a clever compilation of illustrated flash science fiction.  Find it at our Etsy shop (search EEWbooks) or by following the links above to www.sallemander.com…which will take you to our Etsy shop.   -Marsha

body-oddies, Flash Fiction

Assmonkey

1 Comment

I was in no particular hurry at 7:15 on a Saturday morning.  I was driving north on Interstate 295 at about 70 mph. and there was hardly anyone on the roads.

I used the center lane.  It kept me out of the way of the odd car entering or exiting the highway on the right, and there was no reason to be in the passing lane on the left.  But even at that hour, the occasional knot of fancy, expensive cars came up like a swarm and flew past on either side as if I was standing still.  No problem.  It was no bother to me.  There was plenty of room for everyone to do their thing.  They could all crash and die, for all I cared, and I would simply steer around the mess and be on my way, unfazed.  I just never seemed to be in a hurry any more, and I couldn’t imagine that kind of stress ruling over me…or the lack of self control.

I saw the black Mercedes approaching in my rear-view from two miles back.  A minute later it was right behind me, center lane, barely a car length away.  There was no one else on the highway.  There was an empty lane on either side of us as I just explained…and there he stayed.  This tailgating assmonkey with a bloated sense of entitlement, decided to try to bully me out of his lane rather than use his signal and steer around.  He pulled right up to my bumper, flashing his high-beams and honking.  I could see him  shaking his fist and hollering something which looked like, “Let the fudge outta my brain!”  Weird.

Oooooh, the seething madness that consumed his face and filled his luxury cockpit with vitriolic bile, the angry expletives bellowed, the spittle sprayed at the indignity I caused him to suffer by obstructing him, in HIS lane, at a measly five miles over the speed limit…and to watch it increase as I smiled and calmly took my foot off the gas petal, slowing down to 65…was priceless.

The sheer hugeness in the way his rage increased at that moment made me laugh out loud.  By the time I’d slowed to 58, he literally seemed to expand, turn beat-red and blow white steam out of his ears, and just as I reached the minimum, at 40, he popped.

I saw his windows suddenly pasted with gooey chunks of reddish bits,  teeth and slabs of fatty flesh (though, no brains).  His car veered off, crossing the left lane and slammed into the concrete barrier dividing the north and southbound lanes, exploding in spectacular fiery carnage.  Mangled pieces littered the grassy median and black smoke rose 400 feet into the sky…..which NOBODY actually saw.  None of it inconvenienced anyone.  No lanes were closed, no traffic jam formed, nobody was the least bit bothered…because there was nobody else on the friggin’ road!  And no reason for that assmonkey to have tailgated me.

With a carefree smile, I slowly brought my speed back up to 70 and turned the volume up to eleven as “Dead and Lovely” by Tom Waits played on the radio.

*** Where I come from, Assmonkey is the name we use for tailgaters, people with no self control who drive their cars close enough to your rear bumper to smell your last meal.  This red-rough sketch and short story draft are new for our 5th book, “Body-Oddies,” which we’re finishing up for publication early next year.  They will surely be revised and finished beyond recognition, so you should try to enjoy them while you can.  As it is, only a fraction (barely 13 percent) of the material from any of our books is ever released on social media, so you really should try to get the books.  Find all our stuff at our Etsy shop (search EEWbooks), or follow the links to www.sallemander.com, which will take you to our Etsy shop.   -Marsha 

Book Exerpt, Clowns, Sci-Fi

Twisted

Leave a comment

Clown Juice is Pure and Potent.  (book excerpt)

Clowns are twisted, pressed, squeezed, milked and otherwise drained…regularly.  It’s how we get all the yummy juice out.

Pawtucket, RI.  When I first met Snazzy the Clown, I knew nothing about clown extracts.  He gamboled about pissing his juice everywhere, indiscriminately.  I had no idea how potent and valuable his goopy fluids could be…but when we met again two years later, he was all grown up and working for a major pharmaceutical company, squeezing powerful drugs out for erectile dysfunctional old softies.  I’m amazed at how many vital jobs clowns perform in our society.

***This image was originally commissioned fro the Oct/Nov 2005 cover of Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine.  Now it resides on page 29 of our third book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  You can find all 4 of our books and other stuff by followings the links above to www.sallemander.com or by searching EEWbooks at Etsy.com.   -Marsha

Book Exerpt

Spare Rib

Leave a comment

BAT CRAP CRAZY

Ancient Christian texts claim that when God removed one of man’s ribs to make “woman,” he also yanked out the other, just to even things up…but not needing it for anything, tossed it into a dung heap.  This, according to Christians, is the key to the miracle of their existence.  That single bit of rib bone and ragged flesh flourished in God’s blessed poop, reforming as a gangly, festering, embryonic growth.  When it finally gained enough strength to scrape and scrabble into the light of the world (like a schloppity bubble of methane), it burst forth and immediately began juggling rancid chunks of excrement for God’s divine amusement “…and it was gooood…”  Apparently, early Christians were as loopy as our modern, bat-crap-crazy kind.

Ancient Babylonians were quite certain that the first clown hatched like an egg from the severed nut sack of a pregnant goat, caressed by the triple tongue of Ama-Arhus, goddess of fertility.  This theory has some merit, as I’ve observed and documented similar occurrences in this book.

Most American Natives agree that clowns came to the “New World” from Europe as a plague of sickly, pale ghouls in great smelly wooden canoes.  They say they were invited here by the legendary trickster “Coyote” as a prank…which backfired when he became an alcoholic and died of smallpox.

In all, I unearthed about 407 clown origin myths from the records of dead religions across the globe, some of whose sheepish followers still blindly believe…and continue to provide a rich source of entertainment to American popular culture (bless them).

The U.S. University of Clown Knowledge (U.S.U.C.K.), in Waldo, Maine, are the government contractors who track and monitor clown activity throughout North America (they are also the esteemed fact-checkers for this book) and are the ones who ultimately revealed the truth.  They discovered that early clowns (about 7 billion years ago) made a significant evolutionary choice which divided them forever;  A majority of clowns decided to fully integrate with the most dynamic and intelligent race on Earth…and live out their lives in contented, peaceful bliss.  The remaining minority chose to merge with primitive humans…..who by now, have managed to hunt their brethren, the whales, to the brink of extinction.

These days, there are clowns so integrated into our society, they no longer realize they’re clowns…and their subversive influence is incalculable.  The fate of the world, it would seem, now rests in the hands of the sort of delightful fellows featured in this book.

After all my intense research on the history of clowns (an entire Saturday afternoon…wasted) a couple of things stand out.  First, people think clowns are creepy (surprise!!), and second, nobody gives a squirt about history.  As long as clowns distract the kids, folks will overlook just about anything.  Not even the telltale stench of rancid armpits and boozy puke breath – or a police rap sheet of armed robbery and indecent exposure – will put people off these days.  And here they remain, hidden in plain sight…waiting.

***This post is NOT from our latest book, “A Short Burst.”  It is an excerpt from our third book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  While the image makes me want to puke (John loves it of course), it is the most exhaustively researched article on the true history of clowns ever written.  True, it’s kinda short, but piss off!  It’s all we REALLY know about the clown species.  You can find “Bludgeon” and all our books and stuff by following the link above to www.sallemander.com.   -Marsha 

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

Orbital Fracture

Leave a comment

“Well, that was pretty weird…” Quinn’s dad said, as they strolled out of the hospital emergency room toward the car.  Quinn nodded in solemn agreement.  His brain rattled a little, still full of purple marbles and tapioca.  He winced as his now full blown concussion sent steam whistling from his ears and left a trail of silly string on the asphalt.

Just a few hours earlier, Quinn, the goalkeeper for his club soccer team, came out of his box low and fast, to intercept a couple of players desperately sparring for the ball.  He dove in, punching it away as one of the players aimed a kick…but instead of connecting with the ball, his foot caught Quinn in the face like a grizzly car crash (an all-too-common goalie accident).

Quinn’s jaw spun away with a funny “vip-vip-vip!” and hit a light post, exploding in a shower  of sparks.  His teeth peppered everyone within fifty yards…but his head flew straight up in the air at such velocity that we lost sight of it shortly before his “AAAAAAAAAAAH!” diminished into the night.  What a mess!

Willy the Astronaut was a clumsy buffoon who, for the second time this month, slipped and splashed into the molding tank at the polar ice mine on the surface of Mars…as it’s contents began to freeze.  His heavily insulated vac-suit protected him from harm, but he wasn’t discovered until the 60 ton cylinder of ice had already been rocket-lifted up to the orbital processing plant, where it would be transformed into liquid oxygen rocket fuel.

Willy’s coworkers labored fruitlessly for eight frustrating hours with a laser drill to free him, without luck…..until Willy noticed Quinn’s gnarly, high velocity head glance off the ice and careen away, still hollering, “Aaaaaaaaaah!”  Quinn’s head must have hit a sweet spot in the ice, just so, because it fractured the cylinder neatly, allowing Willy to escape unharmed and without a costly, shattered mess for the mining company.  Willy never mentioned Quinn’s head to his employers, he was a known buffoon and his credibility was already compromised.

As to Quinn; his dad managed to gather up all his bits and parts and take him to the hospital, where the clever use of duct tape and super glue had him back on his feet in a few short hours.  We figure his wild story about ice mining on Mars was probably just a symptom of his concussion.

“Well, that was pretty weird…..”

***This is a totally true story from our new book, “A Short Burst” which you can buy at our ETSY shop – just search EEWbooks or follow the etsy links on our website.  -Marsha     

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

Zebulon the Wizard

Leave a comment

Quite puzzled now, he scoured the pages of the old wizard’s tiny journal, searching for something that might explain why his cauldron had just opened, on it’s own, without the spoken enchantment…..he didn’t even notice the pistol pointing up into his face until the voice behind it said, “Give it back, boy!… Give it back NAOW!!!…Ya yella-bellied VARMINT!!”

He called himself Zebulon the Wizard, but his real name was Ralph…and he was a thief.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, he was a really good thief who came from a long line of renowned thieves.  There was no shame in it.  Thievery was a respectable occupation in the old country, which had carried over when his family emigrated here.  But like so many young people nowadays, Ralph found himself falling short of his forefathers’ success.

Old family connections no longer guaranteed respect and a spot on a crack team of cat burglars – or elicit seed money from the mob for a grand heist.  Even the intelligence community ( the biggest employer of thieves in the world) had marginalized new hires into dull college-educated analysts.  So, Ralph was relegated to common pick-pocketing on the street, just to pay the bills.

As it so often happens (in old TV shows), Ralph found the solution to all his problems…in church.  He could always find an easy mark among the rich overdressed hypocrites on a Sunday morning, but it wasn’t until the post-service meet and greet that he was able to lift a nice fat purse from the breast pocket of – none other than – the Holy Roman Cardinal: the biggest, richest muckety-muck of them all.  What a lucky break!!!

How disappointing to find, later, that it was nothing more than a dusty old, hand-written journal…in Latin (of all things).  Ugh!!  Ralph hated Latin!  The kids in school used to tease him for sounding like a drunk Ukrainian whenever he read it out loud.

But, on closer inspection, he discovered that the book was one of those rare mystical Vatican treasures, meant to be locked away and never, ever studied (lest it disprove the church’s fairy tales…or destroy the world).  Upon reading it – and understanding it – Ralph realized he’d hit the jackpot!

The book, written by the fictional wizard, Merlin, was an instruction manual for creating a stable quantum portal, i.e., a gateway allowing him to traverse enormous distances…even time itself.  Cooool!  And if Ralph’s understanding of Latin was better than he thought, his alchemy was even better.

It only took a few weeks to beg, barter, and steal all the exotic elements and artifacts he would need.  Some were quite rare and most still had archaic names like “saltpeter.”  Who knew potassium nitrate used to be called saltpeter?…or that the chemical makeup of modern gunpowder is totally different than the black powder developed around ninth century China?

As well, Ralph found that the key to the entire project was in the spoken enchantments.  Merlin’s overall recipe was pretty straight forward chemistry…but say the right Latin gibberish, in the right tone of voice (standing on one foot with a feather up your bum), and the common reaction you’d get combining bleach and ammonia might produce an adorable plaid bunny, instead of just…a cloud of poison chlorine gas.  There was, needless to say, a good deal of trial and error (and even more tedious research) involved.

In the end, Ralph built what he called a “time cauldron” and had only to decide what he wanted to steal, from whom…and when.  He hit the books again, compiling an elaborate list of fabulous lost treasures, along with their exact locations, on specific historic dates.  But when he activated the cauldron, he was not thinking (as he should have) of the Palace of Versailles, June 15th, 1811… he was thinking of his personal hero, the greatest thief in history.

The portal opened in Missouri, April 3rd, 1882, and he was staring at a rather stunned…Jesse James.  As quick as a thief (which he was), Ralph reached in and grabbed an elaborately decorated six-gun tucked into the front of James’ belt, then closed the time portal before his outraged hero could react.

“Jesse James!” he grinned.  “How cool was that!!!?”  He laughed, very pleased with himself.

Within a year, Ralph had a warehouse full of treasures from throughout history and changed his name to Zebulon.  He was surely (and literally) the greatest thief of all time, and having encountered his older self numerous times over the next fifty years, was sure he had a bright, healthy future…

…So it puzzled him even more to find his hero, Jesse James, waving an anxious six-gun in his face…through HIS own cauldron.  How the heck did this happen?  It was still April 3rd, 1882; shouldn’t he be dead by now?

Jesse poked Ralph in the nose with the barrel.  “I want ma gun back.  I want it naow…” he stopped to pull back the hammer (very menacing), “or I’ll blow yer dang head off, boy!”  He seemed pretty pissed off.

Ralph could have crapped a brick in his fancy wizard pantaloons trying to remember where he put that pistol.  But his sweeping gaze landed on a brilliant (desperate) solution.  “I might have something better…” he said as he handed Jesse James a brand new solar-powered fully automatic plasma laser assault rifle (with pump-action grenade launcher), which he will have lifted, five years from now, off an elite storm trooper of the fifth battalion of Grand Emperor Trump’s intrepid Space Force.

Well…Jesse was giddy as a June bug in sassafras underbritches – or some such Missouri thing…and with his solemn vow (as an honest thief) to destroy the weapon after today’s gunfight, Jesse James closed the portal, none the worse for wear.

Naturally, Ralph was pretty impressed with himself for his quick wit and elegant solution to the mess he’d made…and what could possibly go wrong with handing an advanced weapon of mass destruction from the year 2024, to a gunslinger from 1882 on his death day…?

***Well, this is one of the few really long stories in our new book, “A Short Burst,” it’s a whopping two pages.  It’s one of John’s favorites because it straddles the weird, squiggly border between sci-fi and fantasy.  The original image, published in the April, 2007 issue of Analog Magazine was used as the title page of ‘Burst’ (the one above is the revised version).  You can find all our books and stuff at our Etsy shop.  Etsy.com (search EEWbooks) or just follow the link on our website (which will also bring you to Etsy).  -Marsha    

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

A Car With Personality

Leave a comment

“My seat smells like farts!”  she said, the minute I sat down in the cockpit.

“Oh please!” I said.  “Let’s not start that again, you’re almost seven years old…believe me, there are worse things your seat could smell of.”  I started the engine.

“My struts are almost shot!”  she chimed in…

“I know…” I said (patronizingly), “but your mechanic said they’ll be okay for a while longer.  Your struts are perfectly lovely for now,” as I adjusted the mirrors and flaps.

“Ooooh, I like my mechanic.  He has such goooood hands…” she cooed.

“Stop!!  That’s not something I need to hear.” I said.  “Ugh!  Why can’t I just have a NORMAL car like everybody else…one that LISTENS!?”

“Oh, you LOVE me,” she said.  “Besides, if you hadn’t listened to ME, you’d be broke AND divorced!”

“Yeah, instead of just BROKE!!!” I snapped.  She pouted for a bit…I felt bad…kinda.  “Let’s just go,” I said, quietly.  “We need a good time on this last qualifying run to get pole position.”

“I don’t like the way you take turn fourteen, and your angle on the following straight-away is too bumpy… hurts my struts.”

“Yeah, but it throws everybody off.  It’s our best passing opportunity before we get mired in all that switchback traffic before turn eighteen…..Don’t worry, I’ll take it easier this time.”

She was quiet for a few miles…then, “My seat still smells like farts…”

***Another image and story from our new book, “A Short Burst.”  I can’t express how pleased and proud we are with how well this project turned out.  It is a collection of illustrated flash science fiction scenes and stories, exactly as you find them here. You can buy the book on Etsy.com (search EEWbooks or use the link on our site).  This image was also made into one of the four 4x4in. stickers that come with each online book order.  -Marsha

 

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

A Short Burst

1 Comment

“A short burst, gentlemen.”  Hollered the sergeant in his sharpest parade ground voice.  “Earth-Force Command wants a clean kill…center body mass and head-shots only!”  ‘Yeah,’ I thought, ‘same as last time…same as always.’  “Stay SHARP!” the sergeant yelled, as if he knew I was daydreaming.  I marched forward in the firing line as we approached the village.

“Lock and load!” sergeant yelled.  We all knew THAT was coming next.  Sgt. Matador was a big fan of historic Viet-Nam war films and this planet’s name, Ping-Dang-Fee, inspired him.  In reality, our plasma rifles fired pure energy beams, no clumsy clips or shells, but he figured his bravado might inspire us to fight… he was wrong.  Conscripts of a corporatocracy have no patriotism.

This whole invasion had me deeply conflicted.  Our enemy, the Plast, were an intelligent people, far more civilized than us.  They had renounced technology and war and embraced peace after a long history of violence and greed – not unlike ours.  Earth Force Command told us they were horrible, violent terrorists like the American Indians, determined to stop our God-given right to progress.  We knew better…we knew the Company just wanted the minerals in the soil of Ping-Dang-Fee and had decided it would be cheaper to exterminate these intelligent ‘pests’ than negotiate and actually ‘pay’ for their resources.

“Hold your fire ’till we reach the outer piquet!” shouted the sergeant. We could see the enemy now.  They stood together, unarmed, shoulder to shoulder… men, women and children.  They were tall and elegant and looked like a cross between a tarantula and those adorable orangutans the aristocrats kept for pets…..and they were unarmed.

Sergeant ordered us to the ready.  “Steady…!” he bellowed.  We stood silent and still.  I felt sick.  I could see the shame on the faces of my fellows’ as they realized what we were about to do…again.

“AIMMMMMM…!”

Without thinking, I stepped forward – out of the ranks – and in full view of the regiment, I threw down my weapon…which rattled noisily when it hit the dirt.

The sergeant was up in my face in seconds, bellowing, screeching, ordering me back into line with veins popping and spittle flying…I wasn’t listening.

He went on furiously about duty and service, cowardice and treason….until another weapon rattled as it hit the dirt…and another, and another and he pulled his sidearm and put it to my head and threatened the entire regiment…..but it was too late.  There were thousands of plasma rifles in the dirt and more dropping by the minute…and there would be no massacre today.  And I wondered, while the sergeant yammered on, with his gun to my head, if he still believed all that bullshit he was selling… until he put his weapon to his own head and pulled the trigger…..answering my question.

There were some heavy clashes in the capital city at the outset of the mutiny; nasty house-to-house fighting…but it was mostly among the officer corps.  The common soldiers held back.  The Plast had our sixes; for a peaceful people they were pretty formidable when it counted.  Eventually, our little mutiny spread to every Earth-Force unit.  The second wave never fired a shot.  We heard later that the third wave refused to deploy entirely.

The Corporation was desperate to suppress this mutiny, they were losing battalion after battalion without a fight.  It was getting too expensive.  We expected them to pull back and nuke us from space…..but the bombs never fell.

***Our new book, “A Short Burst” is finally out…and this is the cover story.  The book 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 is available for sale at www.sallemander.com, Amazon, and etsy .com (search; EEWbooks).      -Marsha

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

Disarmament

Leave a comment

 

The disarmament was epic.  Everyone embraced the idea…until it was over.  Then there was no way to…embrace.  The last ones needed to be pretty clever to get it done, but by then, starvation and disease was already setting in.  People really hadn’t thought it through.  It was bad enough that they could no longer feed themselves or drive…or text, but reality finally dawned when they started to defecate in their trousers.  They certainly couldn’t embrace anything, or each other, without arms.  And all those millions of disembodied arms lying about, decomposing in piles everywhere, led to all sorts of nasty airborne and waterborne illness.  What a disaster!

When the aliens landed to study our dead culture a few years later, the sheer stupidity of it shocked them into insanity.  They evacuated immediately, nuked the Earth from space, and made sure to purge it’s existence from galactic memory, lest it infect others. And all who came into contact were euthanized for safety.

***This is a new story with a new image for our new book, “A Short Burst.”  I should have advance copies to sell soon, meanwhile, you can find my first 3 books at www.sallemander.com or search EEWbooks at etsy.com.   -Marsha

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

There Must Be Some Mistake

Leave a comment

 

The atmosphere in the ballroom went positively rancid the moment I walked in.  People stopped dancing mid-step.  The band struck a sour chord and shambled into silence.  Drinks spilled.  A waiter dropped a tray of dishes with a loud, lingering clatter.  A woman fainted, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

Everyone in the place turned to look at me as if I had two heads.  Something was ‘off’ about these people; I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

The groom, looking quite put out, detached himself from his bride and strolled elegantly toward me, the tails of his tuxedo brushing the onlookers as they parted to let him through.  He handed me a scrap of paper with the neatly written words: “There must be some mistake” and gestured to a banner over the dais which read: “Congratulations to Headless Charlie and Sue the Body!”

That’s when I realized that it wasn’t my two heads that disturbed them…it was that I was the only freak in the room who had any head at all.

How embarrassing!

***Our new book – our 4th book – is nearly done.  It is literally being printed now.  The title is, “A Short Burst” a collection of flash science fiction.  This story and image come from page 12.  Most of what you find in this blog is a light dusting of what you’ll find in our books.  Follow the links above to www.sallemander.com to buy them.   -Marsha