Don't Read The Autograph
Sometimes mage’s work is drudgery - that’s what it was tonight. Molly and I were down in my lab, figuring out what ingredients I was low on. That meant knowing…
TextMason
76 stories written on Ficly, 2009–2014, shared under CC BY-SA 3.0. Their page on ficly.com
The Moon is Grey, Too
The horizon blurred red with the dawn. Frank, Cherie and Mike faced east, backs on the cooling plane. “What now?” Mike’s voice cracked. “It’s over,” Cherie…
The Centre Cannot Hold
He gently pushed the key into the lock, trying desperately to push each tumbler down quietly. The lock, old as the house, nevertheless agreeably snicked open…
Peace At Last
I can’t let them turn Earth into potential drowned in sleep. My name’s Mack. It fits a lot of eras. Just like my duds - boots, black pants, white shirt, black…
Dead To The World
I can hold out for two weeks, but after that... I’m in the attic of my folks’ house. Nailed the door, barred the windows. I left an inch to see. They move in…
You Look Away For A While...
-And that’s it,- I note as I rub my brow. -They’ve turned down the last option for society. Annnd they’re eating each other. Only a matter of time now.- I look…
We Make Contact, Part 4
They didn’t have longer to go. And then, their eyes locked onto a single shape on one of the ice towers that spiraled up in a smooth conical rope. A single…
We Make Contact, Part 3
Then, they screamed. Nell, then Ted. The colossal chamber was miles wide, and they had entered from the *top*. They had already fallen some way, but they still…
We Make Contact, Part 1
Nell chipped at the ice while Ted took pictures. Paleontologists looking for Ice Age life trapped in ice, here on reports of tremors that might bring old ice…
We Make Contact, Part 2
The landscape went on forever. Deeply blue ice spiraled up in minarets, towers and peaks. Some showed crystalline roots - rough-hewn hexagonal bases and…
For Family and Friends
Long ago, my grandmother took a recipe for spaghetti and meatballs and thought, “I’m too tired to make meatballs. I’m just throwing it all in one pot.” 2.0 lbs…
Long Walks Every Day
“Frank?” “Yes, Bill?” “Please come to my office.” “Sure thing.” And I make the walk again that I dread - the one to the president’s office. The walk has always…
Last Embrace
The wind snakes through my hair, pulling my shirt with the vigor of a hungry 5-year-old. The breeze lathers me with the cold night air, sneaking fingers under…
Name That Tune, Author's Note
I ask you, as a riddle - what song inspired me to write this scene? I will only say that it is NOT a direct phrasement of the song. It is an extrapolated…
Name That Tune, Conclusion
Martill had long ago become tired of straining his voice to order the final attack. His men knew the signal flare, and boomed forth off the ridgeline and down…
Name That Tune, Part 4
“Vann? How rich am I?” The question was a ritual. “You have wealth unequaled, sir. Of all freelords of the king, you have the most spoils and been given the…
Name That Tune, Part 3
Vann, his lieutenant, signaled to the unit leaders to double-time. It was their standard raid deployment - used to terrify. If a commander wanted to win…
Name That Tune, Part 2
He used his axe as a walking staff for the march from his halls, but now the strength of light coming from above the next rise hearkened to the arrival at his…
Name That Tune, Part 1
He had walked thirty miles to kill a man. Martill strode firmly across the dale, but his eyes were tired and he had no smile nor gleam for his men. They bore…
Making Popcorn In-House
As the moviegoers shuffled to their seats, none noticed the small hose behind the back row with holes to flow the oil down the slight slope of the room - nor…