Tag Archives: science fiction

Eyes in the Back of Her HEAD

Mom always said she had eyes in the back of her head.  I always thought she was joking, but still, I never could get away with anything behind her back.  It was uncanny.  She was just really clever, right?  She KNEW me so well she could always tell what I was up to…..right?  WRONG!!

Yesterday she pulled me aside, angry that I tracked mud through her kitchen right behind her back and blamed my little sister for it.  She parted the neat bun of hair and curlers behind her ears to reveal a creepy set of eyes.  Wow! (did NOT see that coming) My knees gave out and I sat down hard in the puddle of mud on the floor.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, I saw a hairy nose there too…but when a bearded mouth opened wide and berated me with the colorful expletives of a drunken sailor at the volume of a drill sergeant on parade…well, let’s just say that I suddenly had more to mop off the floor than a muddy set of footprints.  (True story.)

***Another excerpt from our latest book (our 4th book), “A Short Burst”…a collection of short, intense, flash science fiction.  Find (and buy) all our books at our Etsy shop. Follow the links at www.sallemander.com or search EEWbooks at www.etsy.com.   -Marsha 

Freaky Uncle

We never spoke about Uncle Dixon.  Our whole family tip-toed around the subject…but I could tell there were powerful feelings just under everybody’s skin.  He was a horrible pariah.  The black sheep of the family.

We kept him in a straitjacket in one of the padded cells in the catacombs below our cabin.  He was never allowed out in the light of day (lest one of the neighbors spot him), only after midnight on stormy nights and always chained, gagged, and bound in one of those psycho metal hockey mask get-ups.  He got wheeled around in a steel cage on a hand truck under constant, heavily armed guard.

Worst of all…he was never allowed to go wilding with the rest of the family, never allowed to invade homes, to rape and burn and shoot folks in the face with shotguns or dismember them with his best machete before skinning and roasting them on the barbeque for the family feast…how sad and dull.

I felt bad for him.  What possible meaning could his life have?  I always wondered what awful thing he could have done to deserve such punishment, until I overheard Pappa Ripper telling old cousin Head-Stomper that Dixon was a pacifist, an atheist and a…vegetarian (whatever that was) and worst of all, he had NEVER murdered a baby in his whole life… actually refused to do it!!  Eeeeew!  What a Freak!

***This image and short story can be found on p.68 of our latest book, “A Short Burst” a collection of flash science fiction.  It is 100 pages, 9×9 inches in size and packed with 64 illustrations and 73 short, intense stories.  You can find it (and buy it) on Amazon, but it is cheaper and easier if you go to etsy.com and search EEWbooks, or just use the link in my website, above. You’ll also find all my other merch: stickers, postcards and greeting cards, as well as our other 3 illustrated books.  -Marsha

Can’t Take it With You

We stood at the intersection looking down at my body, hit by a bus.  How ridiculous!  After all the times I stopped people on their hand-held gadgets from walking into traffic…and now this?  I must have been daydreaming.  What an idiot!

Cars were still swishing through the scene while a small crowd of cynical bystanders gathered to make snarky comments in hushed voices.  The police arrived to push the crowd away and redirect traffic.  One of them walked right through me…ugh!  Weird!!  I shuddered. My companion grinned.

I felt regret.  It was a good body.  I’d kept it fit and healthy, not too bad looking either, but now it was mangled and broken.  There were scattered bits of gristle and a thick dark liquid splashed across the asphalt.  One of my eyes hung down my cheek by a thread and my skull was split wide open like a busted watermelon.  Hmmm, I always wondered what my own brains looked like.  Eeeeeew!!!

My companion stepped over to me with a ‘we should go soon’ nudge.  I must say, for a scythe wielding hippie weirdo in a medieval bathrobe, he seemed like a decent chap.  He was kind enough to give me time to adjust.  Finally, with a friendly clap on the shoulder he hissed, “Come along, son.  You can’t take it with you.”  We turned away and began walking off into the ether.

“Hey Grim!” I said, “You think I’ll come back as a sea slug or a tapeworm?  I hope not…maybe I could be a hockey puck!  Yeah!  That’s where all the action is…”  He shook his head and rolled his eye sockets.  “Hey, can you introduce me to Jesus?  No…ELVIS!!! Yeaaaah!”

***This spot-image and story is featured on page 6 of our latest book, “A Short Burst.”  It is flash science fiction, which makes it very short and intense for people with very little time to read, and is quite satisfying. The image, however, is the rough sketch for an illustration in our next book, “Body-Oddies.”  Our first four books are available to buy at our Etsy shop. Follow the link at www.sallemander.com or search EEWbooks at www.etsy.com.   -Marsha 

Eye Sores

***There is no clever poem or flash-fiction story for this one. I tried…but everything I wrote, sucked. It’s just one of those images that I was extremely happy with, as an image – alone. In fact, it happens quite a lot, and it’s rather amazing when a single image says everything I want it to say. Despite everything I wrote for the “Body-Oddies” book project, it seems better, overall, as an art book, uncluttered with written elements. And that’s cool with me. -John

There Must Be Some Mistake

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!

***This is from our 4th book, “A Short Burst” a collection of flash science fiction.  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 or go to our Etsy shop at www.etsy.com and search EEWbooks.   -Marsha

Faceplant

When she fell, face first, with and grunt and a thudd,

the state of her health was precarious,

but staggering up, encrusted with mud…

the look on her face was hilarious!

***This will be in our next book, “Body-Oddies” (which will be done soon), although it may end up being a completely different version – both the rhyme and the image. This is one of my favorites. I can’t count the number of times I’ve resembled this. Find and buy all our books and stuff at our Etsy shop, search EEWbooks. Thanks! -Marsha

Not Again…

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

Jonny Bot 5

Jonny Bot 5 got horny and hot                                                                                 for a high fashion mannequin girl (who did NOT!).                              Classy and fine, Jonny loved her a lot,                                                              she turned up her nose…a high minded snot.                                                  He brought wild flow’rs by the bunch, by the pot,                                   tried candy, tried gems, read poems – what ROT!                                      But kindness in turn Jonny 5 never got,                                                           not an ounce, not a peck, not even a jot.                                                       Tried…..and tried ’till his brains were quite shot                                        until finally…Jonny went cold……and forgot.

***This image and poem is from our book, “Bludgeon the Clown” (buy it by following the links, above, to my site www.sallemander.com).  When we met Jonny Bot 5 he was already retired from the department store and well beyond his bad marriage with the mannequin…but was now engaged in a sordid online sex thing with Siri the phone chick…it was…well, lets just say ‘I wish I could un-see some things.’  I think John got some good sketches of them during the interview but our publisher (EEW Books) censored all but this one.   -Marsha

Peek-A-Boo

Ana-Aquaman-26

I had a good breath diving under…good for at least 3 minutes.  Fifty yards out from the dock, I angled down deep for about 35 feet.  It was exhilarating.  The fish were strange today. They weren’t acting right.  It was just my instinct but…they seemed to crowd me instead of scattering at my approach. Pensive.

Weeds were thick but I liked swimming through them, like parting curtains…..until I saw the eyes – big eyes – cunning eyes.  I stopped, dead.  Froze.  They were staring at me with unnerving intelligence and all the little fish began darting about frantically – and I nearly lost my breath.

Through the gloom, I began to make out the long, hulking form behind the eyes; Strange limbs, sharp fins, long feelers, fleshy lips with menacing barbs, monstrous teeth…..smiling at me?

Now I was afraid! In one swift motion my hand swept down to draw my knife from it’s ankle sheath – but lightning fast, the creature’s arm shot out from between the weeds and wrapped its long scaly fingers around my throat – my jaw – my entire skull.

I lost my air…and then, lost consciousness.

I woke up…breathing. I started to remember…..swimming through weeds – fish acting oddly – then the eyes…and a massive claw, engulfing my head.  And as it all went dark I thought I heard a sinister, gurgling “Peek-a-boo!”

I was inside now. It was stifling and smelled like cat food mixed with burning tires. I sat up in a lumpy soup of viscous bile and big bloody chunks of meat. My hands and face burned but my wet suit protected the rest of my skin. A sphincter opened behind me and sucked me out, like a dumpling in a steaming meat-soup, down a tube whose bulbous nodules bathed us in a spray of acid. It stripped the fur and skin from the meat and dissolved my hair along with a painful layer of exposed skin.

I dropped into a bony chamber in which long, razor sharp blades shredded the meat into hamburger (along with most of my wetsuit). I was quickly evacuated into another chamber which flooded with thousands of tiny, finger sized worms (with very sharp teeth), who consumed every speck of the remaining meat sludge before I alone, the squirming, inedible lump, was expelled once more, through slimy bowels, into a vat of solid waste.

This wondrous fleshy sack looked and smelled like the inside of a rotting, bloated elephant carcass.  Minutes passed, possibly hours, while a steady stream of sticky, gloppy gunk filled the space, until there was no more room.  I thought this must be the end. With goop filling my ears and covering my mouth, I took my last full breath of air (a three minute breath?) before black sludge covered and consumed me. One minute…two minutes…nearly three minutes passed before I felt a great shuddering shift, followed by a resounding (satisfied) grunt….and I was suddenly shot, like a torpedo, out into clean, cool lake water.

I surfaced near the shoreline, gasping for air. Although I emerged from the lake a raw, tattered and thoroughly disgruntled piece of fish poop…I was alive. It was, perhaps, not my greatest adventure but surely a ‘fantastic journey.’

 

***The only thing better than a giant fish swallowing a dude and crapping him back out is doing the same thing to a great old Asimov concept (like I just did here).  Aaaaah, fish poop!…one of the great mysteries of life.  The image was originally a cover John did for the May, 2011 issue of Analog Mag.    -Marsha