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The Barmaid's Baby Merilene curled up under a thick blanket on her bed, blue eyes shut tight, knees to her chest.  She lay there, perfectly still and holding her breath, trying to block out the world.  It didn't work—she could hear heavy footsteps on the stairs outside her small room. It was funny, she thought, how you could tell how angry a person was by the sound of their boots.  The young woman opened her eyes and ler her breath out as a sigh.  She heard the door of her room fly open and slam against the wall, so hard she felt the vibration through the bed.  She heard the landlady's soft "Hmph", followed by a muttered "Damn it all" before the blanket sh
Come We drove up to the house in our shiny four-door economy car, feeling distinctly out of place. It was an older house, in an older neighborhood, in an older town, full of older people. Imagine a young couple driving into town and seeing no-one less than double our ages. The house itself was a dull brown, and looked like it was falling apart at the seams.

"So what, did your uncle just never put any thought into keeping the place looking nice?" I asked Sharon as I climbed out of our car. "It almost looks condemned."

"He was a really old guy," she replied. "Hell if I know, I hardly knew him."

"Then why are we here?"

"Who else is there?" She sh
In Space I woke up to the sound of arguing coming from the front of the passenger cabin.  A woman's voice, in a heavy accent--I couldn't place where it was from exactly, but I've always been bad at that--was knifing through the general murmur of the other passengers.  I blinked once, then again, and shifted around in my harness, trying to get comfortable.  The other coach passengers were agitated by something.  Bleary-eyed, I looked out the port-hole and into empty space; once, the nearness of that cold blackness might have alarmed me, but I'd been to and from the moon so many times at this point that it was just another day's work.

"I'm sorry, ma'am
The Balloons "Psst.  Hey, kid."  Nine-year-old Amanda Wells looked left and right, unable to figure out where the voice was coming from.  "Over here, by the air pump!  We need your help."

"You're a bunch of balloons," she said quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear her.  "You can't really talk."  She was sitting on a bench near the balloon vendor while her mother blabbed to the antique dealer.  They had come to the fair, but all mama wanted to do was look at shops.  Bo-ring.

"Clearly, I am, so you're wrong, kid."

Amanda looked at the bunch of balloons, a cluster of rainbow-colored balls tugging upwards on the ribbons holding them in place.  "It's jus
Unrelated Short Stories Days and Hours and Nothing - July 6th, 2007
September. It was unseasonably hot, and the air was thick with insects as we waded through the tall grass to our secret spot, our clubhouse without a house. We babbled on about everything and nothing and everything again. Girls. Sports. It's sorta all blurry now. I remember dropping into the couch, casually, and Sam throwing himself into the broken recliner.

Some time passed. I don't know how long. And then there was a light, just floating in the air in front of Sam, and immediately after that the light was gone, replaced with...

With what, I don't know. A floating shadow? An emptiness? I don't r
The Big Bad I love the woods. They're so full of leaves and animals and trees and plants, the scent of a human, sweating and bleeding and running for her life, stands out like a lighthouse in the fog. It's pretty foggy now, in fact, or I'd just be chasing her by sight. But she smells so sweet, so scared, I don't need my eyes.

You're not even a challenge, Red. But you will be delicious.

Even if I couldn't smell her, her scent tearing through these woods like wildfire, I could hear her. Red's not a forest person. Not a woodsman. Woodswoman. Whichever. Her footsteps are so loud in the underbrush, on fallen branches, on discarded leaves that I can't even h

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Full title, which won't fit:
"Eyes the Color of the Sky, Hair the Color of the Sun"

Think about it like a parallel. It seems ridiculous, doesn't it? What makes it so much more ridiculous than reality?
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45:19 There were three of them in the observation room, though it was large enough to house and staff at least two dozen researchers.  Anna Kasmiar sat at the central terminal, facing the thick windows and beyond them the seven-foot-tall glass cylinder, her fingers flying across her keyboard as she finished up the last of the diagnostics on the device.  "Power is go, particle flow is go, all systems are go," she muttered, loud enough for the other people present to hear.

"Confirmation on green light," Michael Filch called out from her left.

From her right:  "The timer is sending its data stream directly into the hard45:19 by ~reido
An Incredible Likeness Krasinski couldn't feel the grass through the thick polyplastics of her boots, but looking at it through the mask of her helmet, she could see how perfectly green it was.  What was stranger to her, however, was not the color, but how perfectly groomed it was.

Twenty yards to her left, Vaughn was staring up into the sky.  His voice came over Krasinski's comms. speaker, and it sounded like the man was inside her helmet.  "Awfully blue, isn't it?"

Krasinski's bulky form turned to face him.  "You sound a lot calmer about this than you should."

In his heavy External Exploration Suit, Vaughn's shoulders rose and fell.

"You ever been golfing?" KAn Incredible Likeness by ~reido
The Balloons "Psst.  Hey, kid."  Nine-year-old Amanda Wells looked left and right, unable to figure out where the voice was coming from.  "Over here, by the air pump!  We need your help."

"You're a bunch of balloons," she said quietly, not wanting anyone else to hear her.  "You can't really talk."  She was sitting on a bench near the balloon vendor while her mother blabbed to the antique dealer.  They had come to the fair, but all mama wanted to do was look at shops.  Bo-ring.

"Clearly, I am, so you're wrong, kid."

Amanda looked at the bunch of balloons, a cluster of rainbow-colored balls tugging upwards on the ribbons holding them in place.  "It's jusThe Balloons by ~reido
Gabriel The first thing I should probably say on this thing is that I’m going to die.  And nnnow that that’s out of the way…

I don’t like to think of myself as a hero, but people’ve called me one; I don’t know what’s so heroic about being an astronaut.  The things I do, the things I’ve done… I’d like to think that anyone would do them.  Anyone with a bit of bravery, at least.  But it ain’t bravery that makes people heroes.  I know that I’m brave, though; I don’t see that as much of a brag, to be honest.  Anyone can be brave.  Bravery, matter of fact, usually comes right along with stupGabriel by ~reido
City by ~reido
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