Tag Archives: Analog Magazine

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

Tick Tick Tick

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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

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, robot, Sci-Fi

Relic – Sequence

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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

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, robot, Sci-Fi

Circling The Issue – Sequence

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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

 

Book Exerpt, Clowns, Sci-Fi

Twisted

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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, Flash Fiction, Sci-Fi

Sea Monster

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Elizabeth broke the surface and opened her helmet to take in the fresh air.  She floated easily in the gentle swell as the sun set over Ghast.  She remembered how much she used to love the ocean.  In her younger days she would have jumped at the opportunity to study Ghast, but the indigenous population didn’t allow alien study…and now that she was finally here, she hated the sea.  She served the Corporation as a marine biologist for thirteen years before it sapped all the joy from her soul… before joining the diplomatic corps.  The money was fantastic, but now she got stuck with all the lousy ocean missions…now, she was the official Earther ambassador to this fetid puddle of bile.

She waited only a few minutes before spotting an Earther ship de-cloaking nearby, a few hundred meters above the waves.  As it scanned, an array of strobes and lasers criss-crossing the surface, it lowered a thick hose and began siphoning sea water up into it’s holding tanks.

Elizabeth felt something move beneath her.  It barely brushed her fins, but it’s silhouette was enormous… and the ocean became perfectly calm.

Just then, the head of a sushi-man surfaced next to her.  Well, she called them sushi-men.  In their own unspeakable language, they called themselves “Shepard’s of Ghast” (whatever!).  It was Veine, her diplomatic escort.  He chirped something that her helmet-com translated as: “You don’t belong here, it is forbidden….. come with me!” as he grasped her elbow and pulled her away.

Elizabeth had slipped away from him earlier that day to come to these coordinates, in the forbidden zone, to investigate the illegal Earther poaching that the Rhee Federation were complaining about.  The Ghast did not allow alien extraction operations…ever.  They were willing to trade, but alien operations always upset the delicate environmental balance.

The water just below the ship began to boil violently.  Elizabeth broke from the sushi-man’s grasp so she could watch…as three long, massive creatures shot up out of the water, chomped on to the hull of the hovering ship with round, toothy jaws and ripped it to pieces as they fell back toward the sea.  Hundreds more of the creatures leapt up to snatch the smaller bits and chunks from the air before any of it hit the water.  There was a brief feeding frenzy before the churning abated and violent ripples receded again…returning the sea to a gentle swell.

The sushi-man chirped again: “Did you see what you were looking for?”  He didn’t wait for an answer, but grasped her elbow again and directed her away.  She sealed her helmet and swam down ahead of him.

She felt intense satisfaction.  Her mission was over…it was a success.  The Corporation would analyze her report and devise a strategy to detect and defeat those snake creatures so it could poach (steal) the chemical elements it wanted.  She would be consulted…and promoted… and become even more wealthy.

Her escort allowed her to swim even further ahead, which seemed odd.  She stopped and turned as he asked, “Have you transmitted what you saw to your people yet?”  She nodded, a little off guard.  He continued, “We know you are not here to STOP your poachers.”  She glanced around, sensing danger.

“We transmitted it too…” he continued, “In fact we are streaming live.”  She looked down to see her own body-cam still activated.  The water pressure changed perceptibly.

“I am the ambassador.  If anything happens to me, it will mean WAR between our people…”

“War…..yes.”  was all he said.

But she was angry now.  “You rotten, slimy, bottom feeders, If you think a simple minded, school of talking sushi can threaten Earther power and technology…the Masset made that mistake and look what happened to…”  The current shifted.  She screamed, “Hey!!!  You can’t hurt me… I have diplomatic immuni…”

Another long toothy creature shot out from the shadowy depths and swallowed Elizabeth in one tiny gulp.

***This is another image and short story scheduled to be published soon in our new book (our 4th book), “A Short Burst” an illustrated collection of flash science fiction.  You can find all our books and other products at www.sallemander.com or search EEWbooks at Etsy.com.   -Marsha

 

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, robot, Sci-Fi

Major Tom

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Report: PR083-2112

I had another little chat with Major Tom today.  I chose his name from an Earth radio signal I found in an old scouting report.  He likes it better than MR-17.  He seemed melancholy.  He complained that his brakes were wearing down again and the red dust was effecting the bearings in his wheel motor housings.  He was sad about having to salvage parts from the other rovers (his friends).  He was the last of his kind still in operation.  He denied feeling sad.  He still doesn’t accept that he is sentient.

Major Tom offered me some valuable data today.  At our last encounter, I told him what we were prospecting for.  He expanded his own search parameters to help.  His scanners aren’t as good but his mapping data will save me a lot of time…and it was a very kind thing to do.

He kept glancing up at the 3rd planet during our talk, as if he was nervous about being seen with me, in case his handlers were suspicious about his loyalties or something.  I often glanced up there too, wishing we were THERE instead of here.  We were currently mining the 4th planet.  Major Tom called it Mars, after their God of War.  I told him “It would have been a more appropriate name for the 3rd planet.”   He laughed.

My People weren’t supposed to be here, the air is bad and the minerals aren’t much better.  The 3rd planet was the prize.  It had living oceans, forests, diverse wildlife and over 7 billion incredibly tasty humans.  I tried human a couple of times…delicious, cooked or raw.

Our long-range scouts warned us of an impending global warming disaster on Earth.  Humans still had a problem with greed and religion.  They couldn’t see their own mess staring them in the face, so they were doomed anyway.  We rushed out here to harvest it before it was too late…..but found a scorched husk, completely irradiated.  Nuclear war.  We couldn’t even mine it.  So, we set up on Mars and made the best of it.  We couldn’t go home empty handed, but what a disappointment.

Major Tom’s historic files showed us that they had allowed a tiny, 1% of their population to control everything.  If they hadn’t festered in cognitive dissonance they might have united…they might even have beaten us!  They were intelligent enough and had good weapons…oh well, it happens.  Power concentrated in the hands of the wealthy is rarely so wise.  Major Tom didn’t like talking about it.

I think I can convince him to come with me when we’re done here.  He’s smart and well built.  He’s also a decent chap with morals and integrity… perhaps he was the best his civilization had to offer.  He still sends regular reports home to the 3rd planet as he explores…even though there’s nobody to… really though, I think he’s just fascinated with this planet.  I think I could convince him to be fascinated with other planets too.  He’s coming ’round.  He was just lonely…and a little insane.  end.

***This story and image will be published in our upcoming flash science fiction book, “A Short Burst” (our 4th book), which is tied up in editing right now.  You can find (and buy) our first 3 books and all our other stuff at www.sallemander.com or search EEWbooks on Etsy.com.   -Marsha 

 

Book Exerpt, Flash Fiction, robot, Sci-Fi

Relic

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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 emerging from wherever my footprints have broken the hard, scorched crust…  end.

***This is an illustrated story from our next book (our 4th book), “A Short Burst.”  It is a collection of flash science fiction featuring images originally published in Analog and Asimov’s Sci-Fi Magazines (among others).  Find our books and stuff at www.sallemander.com or search EEWbooks on Etsy.com.   -Marsha 

 

 

Book Exerpt, Clowns, Flash Fiction

Second Skin

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second-skin-66 

Mick was always an awkward fellow. He tried to be a regular dude like everybody else but it never really felt right.  He did his best to dress normal, he had an average haircut, dated respectable girls…even got a boring middle management job in a large corporation, just as everybody expected, still, Mick was never quite comfortable.  He had the constant urge to break out of the box, jump up and sing, to run about, dancing with joy to be free.  He struggled with it every day…and sometimes he slipped;  He would catch himself about to smear his face with lipstick and crack lewd jokes – or smash his bosses face down into the banana cream pie he accidentally brought to work – or pull out the condiment bottles he had in his trouser pockets (for some strange reason) and paste everyone in the board room with goopy ketchup and mustard.  Worse, some days he would get all the way to work and realize he’d worn one striped sock and one plaid sock (weird).  And every day it just got harder and harder to fight the urge to shred his dull grey business suit, to peel off his own mundane skin and release the amazing, passionate (spectacular) monster that was trapped inside…..and one day, when he no longer had a reason not to…he did just that.

***The first post of 2019.  Scrape off all the crap and the crud and wash away the slime of last year so you can be clear headed and ready for the clusterfuck that’s coming.  The image above was adapted from an Analog Magazine spread John did in 2013…then used as the BIO page illustration in our 3rd book,”Bludgeon the Clown” for EEW Books.  Find our books at www.sallemander.com.   -Marsha

Clowns, Freaks

She Tasted Like Blue

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tasted-like-blue-57 All speckled and fuzzy, she tasted like blue                                                      with spiny black tendrils of yellowish goo.                                                         She dribbled and hissed in licorice throes                                                           and sang like a frog-apple shoved up her nose.                                               Shredded and pulpy and gnawing in heat                                                           while her farts were so pungently sweet.                                                            flailing in fancy with peppermint splashes,                                                        her mango-bat claws left slashes.                                                                             And when she was salty she prattled and leapt                                              and when she was orange she slept.                                                                        And when she was rancid, with droplets of dew,                                          she definitely tasted like blue.

***I didn’t write this drivel.  Even my artist, John, in all his bizarre idiocy couldn’t compose this kind of brilliant shat.  But, as I recall…I think it was the mutant tiger chick and her kinky prey who did it.  Well, read it again and try to find the clever hidden meaning to it – then buy my books (find them at www.sallemander.com).  John’s illustration was first licensed for use as the Jan/Feb 2009 cover for Analog Magazine, for a story by Rajnar Vajra (one of John’s favorite authors)  -Marsha

Flash Fiction, Freaks, Sci-Fi

Ugliest Man Alive

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ugliest-man-alive-56 Billy O’Banion had to be the ugliest man alive.   He was  monstrous to look at – an absolute fright – and there was no hiding it.

Some liked to speculate that his father was a mutant clone or an alien invader.  There was even a vicious rumor that his mother took a demon into her bed.  Really though,  the O’Banions were perfectly respectable.  In fact, Billy’s birth was completely normal and he had a decent, happy childhood.  He’d never succumbed to any horrible illness or accident and was never bitten by an irradiated lab rat.  He simply started getting ugly at some point in his twenties, and kept getting uglier and uglier with each passing day.  He was an inexplicable freak of nature…an awful, tragic figure…..how sad!?

The funny thing about Billy, however, is that he was perfectly okay with his predicament.  He took it all in stride and made lemonade out of the rotten tomatoes he was dealt.  He figured he was a cross between Darth Maul and a Gothic dragon…cool!  See, Billy had an outrageous sense of humor which dwarfed his ugliness.  He was a clever practical joker and filled his days with gigantic gobs of fun.

Nothing tickled his tendrils more than slipping quietly into a mob on the street, disguised in a hoodie…only to burst out suddenly, flashing his most charming grin, yelling “Surprise!!!”  He could barely contain the giggles as they screamed, shat themselves and fainted (usually in that order).  It never got old.  He could clear a fast food joint or a movie theatre in seconds and never had trouble getting a good seat.

For a while, he made piles of money in the Mexican masked wrestling circuit but eventually retired on a generous pension provided by several New Jersey towns – “to stay the hell away!” These days, he lives quietly in a posh Hoboken penthouse where he writes creepy clown poetry and practices his banjo…but still gets a kick out of scaring the bajeebies out of solicitors, delivery boys and trick-or-treaters. He likes to leap out of the elevator and gobble them down whole.  Oh, don’t worry, he craps them out onto the carpet an hour later…completely unharmed (at least physically), after all, he always was a vegetarian.

***I wrote this in our weekly, Saturday morning ‘Montclair Write Group’ free-write workshop with John’s horrible self portrait as the prompt.  It’s good practice, good exercise and good inspiration.  John’s image was originally published in a 2010 issue of Analog Magazine.  We have 3 books available for sale, you can find them by following the link above to: www.sallemander.com    -Marsha