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Monthly Archives: December 2009

Silhouine

“I had to take it in trade,” says Dulap, “he said Mistress always did before, and if I didn’t he’d stop bringing me his custom. I can’t afford to lose customers when half the city has fled to the hills!”

“Nor can anyone,” says Yael softly.

“But it wasn’t his to give?” says Silhouine, still trying to work this out.

“I don’t even know what it is, or why these other people want it,” says Dulap, rubbing his face. “Could you store it? Just until I can unload it?”

“What did he call the stuff?” says Silhouine.

“Ferrous alumen,” he says.

A Horror Story

The Higbee’s Santa lives alone, and keeps his red suit on a hat tree by the door. He’s eating dinner under a bare bulb when Ralphie’s face appears outside his window.

“Jesus!” says the Higbee’s Santa, jerking back from the table. “All right, real funny, kid. You some kind of peeping–”

He hesitates. Ralphie isn’t peeping. His eyes are ruined, pierced by the shards of his shattered glasses.

“What the fuck happened to you?” he whispers.

“He shot his eyes out,” says Flick, opening his tongueless mouth to disgorge a torrent of blood. The Higbee’s Santa screams and screams.

Merry Christmas!

Crucible

Crucible and the other dungeonbots burst into a room, surprising eight kobolds. They attack first, their hammers and flamethrowers damaging four of the kobolds. Then the kobolds attack and damage them. Then the dungeonbots kill two kobolds. Then the remaining kobolds attack. Then the dungeonbots kill four kobolds. Then the last two kobolds attack but don’t do very much. The dungeonbots kill them.

“Healing?” says the clericbot, holding up a steel plate and some rivets.

“I’m fine,” says the thiefbot, picking through kobold brains for pennies.

“Ah,” says Crucible, as tiny rubber blades wipe the blood from his optical sensors. “Adventure!”

Scrooge

“You will be haunted,” resumes Marley, “by three Spirits.”

“I–I think I’d rather not,” says Scrooge.

“Remember what has passed between us!”

Scrooge goes to bed, and falls asleep upon the instant. He wakes as the curtains are drawn aside by a strange figure–not so like a child as like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium. His arms are twiglike, his face and belly swollen. He has no eyes. His skin is pale and spongy, ripe with decay.

“WHAT THE FUCK,” says Scrooge, before the monster child renders him like a cow for the slaughter.

Merry Christmas!

Aldous

The rule for solving a maze is this: put your shoulder to a wall and walk. This works less well for a maze with doors in it, but Aldous knows better than to try mapmaking. The rooms here don’t play fair.

The library, for instance, is stalking her. She keeps smelling it behind her, dust and wood acid and the cruel alchemy of glue. She doesn’t trust it, but it must be trying to tell her something.

She enters, finally, and pulls a book down expecting blank pages. Instead it’s full of handwritten names: Cording, Cordovan, Corey, Corinna, Corinne, Corwin, Cosette.

Silhouine

The occupation, such as it is, drags on into the rainy season. Master Isaam isn’t back yet, and Silhouine begins to suspect incidents on the mountain pass. It worries her: she liked Isaam, and doesn’t want him dead or destitute. Will an heir or a creditor show up to claim the shop? Will he keep the old apprentice around?

“You know you’re running out of inventory,” says Yael, at last.

“Yes,” snaps Silhouine, who doesn’t have the capital to restock. “I’m working on it.”

Dulap shows up the next day, with a wheelbarrow and white all the way around his eyes.

Simon bar Kokhba

“Fear not, citizen,” declares Simon bar Kokhba when they bring the mutilated man before him. “Though your attackers have taken speech and writing from you, yea, they will be found–for you can still answer yes or no!”

The man nods weakly.

“First–were they Israelites?”

He shakes his head.

“Foreigners,” spits the prince. “Armed with knife or sword?”

The man hesitates.

“Oh, right. Nod once for a knife, twice for a sword.”

He nods twice.

“Cool,” says Simon bar Kokhba. “Wait. Was that just one nod with two motions?”

Longinus resigns himself to just growing his hands and tongue back.

David Mamet

After the reading, an eager Betsy shuffles through the line to get her copy signed. “This is a real honor,” she says, trying to sound cool. “I was wondering if maybe you’d draw in it? Like you do on HuffPo–“

“Of course.” Smiling, David Mamet draws two large and shaky circles, then a smaller circle within each of them. Finally, at each of their epicenters, he draws a single dot.

Betsy accepts it with a hint of hesitation. “Er,” she says, “is it an illustration of the inherent conflict between human need and masculine aggression, or–”

“It’s boobs,” explains David Mamet.

Mario

Defusing a time bomb is tricky business even if the many-worlds interpretation doesn’t hold, and Mario isn’t helping.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks, trying to get a better look.

“In simulations,” mutters Girard. Sweat accretes under his ears and armpits.

“Which wire do you think you should cut?”

“Ask me in thirty seconds,” says Girard, cutters poised.

Mario twists his watch and jumps forward. “Which wire do you think you should cut?” he asks again.

Girard lolls at him, skinless, his jaw across the room somewhere.

“Well?” says Girard when he returns.

“Not that one,” Mario says.

Bad Pennies

Pennies don’t go bad from mere
Exposure to the air;
They need immersion–turbid, warm–
And gentle, cruel care.
Don’t let their tarnish verdigrize.
Don’t keep it bright or clean,
But mold it, topiarylike,
Into a thing of green
And verdant, fertile, grasping hands
Impossible to sate.
Then turn them loose in pocket change
And watch them propagate:
Each zinced-out copper currencette
Will sow discord and strife
And reap a feast of misery
From someone’s ruined life.
Don’t act surprised to see it work,
You who set loose the flood.
There’s a reason, after all,
That pennies taste of blood.

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