Dime Novels From Oblivion

Lang Grillman was taken from this life by a stroke at 68 years old. He had spent the pinnacle of those years as a celebrated football player. His triumphs included two super bowl rings, the MVP Award, and his induction into the hall of fame. This was the peak of his glory, the descent into obscurity was characterized by drug addiction and car insurance commercials. When he looked in the mirror and saw the deepening wrinkles on his face the loosening skin, and the graying hair he did not see a man who was aging he saw a fallen god in decay. He spent much of his last years in his memories. He knelt before his display of trophies as if it were an altar and beseeching the past to return, but he could only move forward. No matter how much he spent on skin treatments and hair dye these chemical remedies were not much better than a crumbling wrapper set around his flesh. Soon the gold no longer shined and neither did Lang. He died long before they lowered him into the grave. He was not

The human mind is always somewhere between the past and the future. Memories are part of sentient beings programming. Experiences set perceived precedence for reality that assists the brain in imagining a future. What we call the present exists somewhere between the two. Nothing forces the mind into the present like death; it is a final moment after which there is no future to rectify with the past, and so it ceases. “Nothing brings you into the moment like death,” said private first class Houten. He volunteered his services as a lab rat for an experiment being conducted by the neuropsychology, neuropathology, and neurophysiology departments of a university partnered with the Pentagon. PFC Houten was Dr. Shriver's test subject. The doctor hypothesized the brain could be physically reshaped relatively quickly with the bombardment of carefully selected stimuli. Houten's psyche was to be shattered by forcing him to experience death over and over again. Then he was to be res

The Dimona was just one component of the planet-wide network of orbital weapons christened as the “Pulsars.” They were a chain of nuclear reactors that orbited the earth. The atomic machinery that powered each station of this weapons platform powered a nuclear beam that could incinerate cities. The weapon had only been used in its infancy. Survivors recalled a blood-red star glowing in the sky before a pillar of light that burned as hot as the sun descended on the city. The highly concentrated beam of energy melted the steel skyline and incinerated the people the same way a ray of sunlight directed by child's magnifying glass incinerates ants. Intrigued by the weapon’s potential more and more were deployed to the edge of space. Before long there were so many Pulsars orbiting the Earth, that at any given time no fewer than 50 percent of Earth's “major population centers” were in the sights of their nuclear eyes, their apertures automatically readjusting their size to fit th

Like the monsters that inhabited the imaginations children, you were most vulnerable to them while you were laying bed. That is when they came. Many went insane from sleepless nights spent listening for the heavy knock at the door. Just like the monsters in the country’s traditional folklore these black-clad demons also dragged people away into the thick darkness of night, never to be seen or heard from again. These shadow men were appointed guardians of the state, against enemies unseen. They were paranoia made flesh. They could detect enemies anywhere, and they hunted them down with ruthless efficiency. These human hunters operated on the deeply cynical assumption that any threat real or imagine was best wiped out. They were like attack dogs, and their masters gave them free reign. Spengler awoke to the knock. The knuckles banging against the heavy wooden door ripped him from his sleep, panic instantly set in. His heart thumped against his chest, and the air became too thick to