Our Shortstory collection has a name! (Now it only needs a cover graphic, then we’re all ready.)
Just some shameless promotion:
A Tale of Heroes
This is a tale of heroes. Not modern day heroes. You know? Ones that wear pink or yellow shirts and tight pants and cry “Coooeee!” as they arrive at your front door, TV camera crew in tow and a bottle of the most powerful bog cleaner in the world, right at the exact moment you were going to throw a wobbly because the toilet is blocked.
‘Oh, my heroes!’ you squeal.
No. Not this type.
Neither are they the type to scale mountains, cross the seven seas, merely to leave a double-decker box of dark chocolates on your bedside table.
Leslie Hyla Winton Noble
‘Oh good!’ Deon remarked to himself, rushing forward.
He had noticed her immediately as she made her way out towards the parking, battling with an apparently faulty shopping trolley. In fact, he had slowed his steps to enjoy the view. There was something about her whole bearing and appearance which he found appealing from the first glance.
Then the fates had been kind to him. The trolley had shed a wheel, and the whole thing tipped over, spilling contents in all directions. She said an unladylike word, but he liked the voice with which she said it. It was cultured and pretty, to match her red-headed good looks.
Memoirs of a Chief Replicator Technician
A tribute to the late Gene Roddenberry
© Marie Marshall
“Pass me the number seven molecular wrench, honey,” I said without looking up from my work. I needed to keep an eye on what I was doing because I had three micro-clamps and a positron patch in place, and the neutron flow was temporarily in reverse across two junctions in the common matter circuit. Tricky stuff.
Consuela (my Tejana subordinate) rummaged in the tool kit and handed me the wrench.
They came across the deserted farmstead some time during the morning. The Brazilian sun came down at an angle, heating the red dusty earth just enough to be strenuous. Grey stalky clumps were all that was left of the grassland. Trees stood bare and bleeding, even their bark stripped off. The flowerbeds were bare. Not a single bird perched in the trees. A scene of devastation.
They entered the house with caution.
And 19 more items in Freestuff!
Not all shortstories are really short; and not all will be included into Mercury Silver.
Feedback from You:
Please let me know (post here in the comments or email me from the website) if there is a specific story you definitely want to see included.