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We're The Chrononeers!

"sometimes it seems like life is just a far too intricately conceived web of indignities and mutually reinforcing torments for some kind of intelligent designer not to be involved." 
-Doctor Johannes Vortenburger

Man had finally freed itself from the clutches of the once immutable force of time, sort of. The development of time travel was much like space exploration had been conducted by baby steps.

Still being selected as a time traveler, or a chrononeers as they liked to be called was indeed an exceptional honor and David’s parents never tired of talking about their son the time traveler. He had always gotten such good grades!

David had undergone the rigors of time travel training and was finally ready for his first expedition into the future. Precisely one year one day and 7 hours into the future. Destroying the very fabric of existence was a risk inherent in time travel. Some questioned taking such a reckless gamble for the sake of intellectual curiosity, but the machine …

Movie Night

Bojanko lit a cigarette and sunk his head into the collar of his long winter coat.  He was the only one standing on the windswept street. A cruel and persistent winter left the city feeling as desolate and empty as the starless night. Bojanko held the smoke in his lungs until he could feel his head begin to lighten. He puffed a small cloud of smoke and a plume of freezing breath. The air suddenly exploded into an icy gale that touched the flesh with the sensation of a thousand burning needles. He looked at his watch it was 1:37 a.m.
“Hurry up goddamnit,” Bojanko shuddered.
Two headlights appeared just beyond the far corner. The beams crawled along the road as the car slowly pulled up to Bojanko. He opened the rear door and briskly greeted the other passengers before jumping out of the cold.
The long car was designed to accommodate four passengers in the back. Bojanko was seated next to General Vasilli a giant of a man whose looming posture and bushy black beard made him resemble a bea…
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I'd like to express my most heartfelt gratitude to Zimbell House Publishing for including my piece, "Eternity's Waiting Room" in their latest anthology "I'm Dead?" We're all going to die someday. Yes, that includes you, and you'll be dead a very long time, forever goes the thinking. "I'm Dead?" explores this grim reality through a series of short stories that will make you laugh, cringe, and think about that fast approaching inevitability. Get your copy today!

Acceptance

Todd turned off the car, unclicked his seatbelt, and stared out through the windshield. The only sounds were raindrops tapping on the hood and his restless leg bumping against the steering wheel. He reached for his phone charging on the dashboard.
“It’s too late to back out now,” he muttered to himself. He dialed a number and held the phone up to his ear. The call to a slightly longer than usual to connect and the first ring startled Todd.
“Todd is that you? Where are you?” A breathless female voice answered.
Todd was silent for a moment.
“Todd please..please just tell me where he s,” she sobbed.
“Meet me at Queen of angels cemetery in 20 minutes. Come alone, or I’ll kill him,” Todd said calmly.
“Todd, please don’t hurt him,” she begged.
“Just meet me at the cemetery,” Todd repeated.
“Where?” she asked.
“You know where,” Todd replied flatly.
“Please Todd just give him back to me I wo-”
Todd ended the call and dropped his phone on the floor.
He took a tissue from his jacket and dabbed …

Repent?

King Ulterecht’s reign was in its 27th year when old age and the rigors of his lifestyle combined to assure he would not see the 28th. With his frail body wrapped in white linens, thin, pale lips, and shallow cheeks the king already resembled a corpse. Every shallow breath was one closer to his last. His mind was dissolving into a swirling sea of memories the king and the king could only watch helplessly as it drained into oblivion
While some may seem convinced more than others neither commoner nor king knows what if anything awaits in the void, but the king was a pragmatic man and after thinking about some of the more blood-soaked and debauched times in his life decided in one of his more lucid moments to summon Cardinal Henry.
The Cardinal had heard about the king declining health and was expecting the summons sooner or later. Henry brought with him a bible, a golden cross the king could grasp in his hand when he saw the white light beacon, and a ledger.
Henry’s arrival was heralded…

Charlotte

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With growing detachment Anne watched the evenly spaced yellow dashes pained on the surface of the asphalt road stretch themselves out before disappearing under the car. Her eyes were drawn to the hypnotic visual rhythm and as the world around her narrowed her mind began to drift into the place where memories become living dreams.
The chattering phantoms grew louder, and their muffled voices became clearer and each one more distinct. Anne’s dead eyes weren’t seeing traffic and pavement. Reality was just an obscured and quiet backdrop happening at the fringes of an encroaching nightmare. Her sense of dread became a physically creeping sensation that crawled up her body through the fibers in her muscles and into her bones. Her stomach tightened, every breath became sharp and painful, her pupils dilated into ebony voids.
“Hey look a school bus!” Charlotte announced.
The child’s high pitched voice snapped Anne back to the present. She exhaled sharply and looked around the car with bewilde…

Coping with Armageddon

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At the height of her professional career as a psychologist, Sophia Paulson transformed into the public avatar of her field. Her book “You just don’t get it: Unraveling the anxieties of modern adolescence” was an instant best seller. As it tuned out Dr. Paulson was not just a delight to read she was also quite easy on the eyes. Not six months after Sophia became the best selling author she was offered a chance to take on the much more popular medium of television.
She was pushing 40, but only the most subtle signs of aging had manifested themselves. Her slender body and still smooth and taught skin made more than a suitable frame for the demands of modern fashion, and she seamlessly blended professional poise with a hint of sexuality.
After about two years of dividing her time between her private practice and her daily sessions with her respectably sized audience, she was approached with an offer that at the time she figured would only be one time’s bizarre footnotes. For 4.8 million …

Death for the Dead

Miles Webber was once the most well-known musician in the western world. After his untimely death at 29 Miles’s mortal remains were interred in a private mausoleum. The single room structure with its Romanesque column and a statue carved in the likeness of the departed strumming a guitar placed at the summit of the pitched roof was like a small temple where legions of followers could flock to pay their respects.
Over the years through the crowds dwindled and before long even his most ardent admirers stopped making the pilgrimage to Miles's shrine. The decades passed, and the people who could remember seeing Miles play were themselves starting to part from the earth.
Life goes on, and of course, death follows. The cemetery continued to expand, and the once prominently placed monument to Miles was now obscured by mausoleums built for other forgotten entertainers.
Even before they died, the few lucky enough to have their remains committed to such an exclusive graveyard were commision…

The Bronze Bull

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After the Mormon army armies reached the east coast, they set to work salvaging and restarting the long-abandoned foundries scattered across the landscape. The blast furnaces once again were swollen with molten steel, and the towering brick stacks erupted with volcanic ferocity. The forked flames lashed at the clouds and the billowing smoke blackened the sky heralding the ascendancy of the continent's new masters.
Roaming bands of scavengers had been picking at the bones of New York City for decades. THe nibbling quickly turned into a full feeding frenzy. Legions of landless farmers and rootless laborers descended on the ruins. They worked as ceaselessly as termites to hollow out the steel carcass.
John Nelson had traveled a long way to get a look inside the old city. He was a Captain Edler in the Bringham Young regiment an outfit that had spent the better part of a decade fighting across the continent. The spry young Captain was an avid student of history, and even though dead o…

Adolf Hitler: Dating Meister

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Sophia Paulson was a fantastic performer. Her body was sculpted and toned by hours spent with physical trainers, her wardrobe was the latest to grace the pages of the fashion industry’s most recognizable trend setting publications. She adorned her near flawless oval face with thin wire frame glasses that added a subtle complimenting component of intellectualism to her sex appeal. She was a young upstart. She had gone to the best schools, had met the right people, and at the relatively young age of 32 had established herself as a respectable practitioner in the field of psychology. There were tumultuous undercurrents of stress running beneath the well crafted facade however. She had been able to hide them most of her life from just about everyone she knew, everyone except her fiance. Her engagement once a countdown to the day she would finally have the final piece of her perfect life had now become an indefinite and agonizing period. In her attempts to expedite the process she had acco…

It's A Winner!

This piece won best new poem for the month for June! Check out the other great entries here

The pillars of fire ignited the sky spreading an ebony cloud of death that quickly engulfed the glowing blue and green orb floating in the infinity of space. All over the planet, the bright clusters of lights that had once stood as a testament to the power of man were smothered by darkness. To the men and women watching from their observatory on the edge of the cosmos the lights dotting the surface of the Earth were more than just the burning glow of civilization, the illumination emitted by billions of lives. These lights were a reminder of their homes, of their families, of their lives, and in only a matter of minutes, it was all gone.

For the astronauts on board the international space station, the burning red flurry of atomic explosions was like a silent fireworks show. They were deaf to the Earth shaking roar of the blasts, the howl of the scorching nuclear winds that were carrying the screa…

There are no closets in foxholes

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Private Stuart Breyers had joined the marine corps during peacetime. The plan was to use his two-year hitch as a transition period into becoming an independent young man. Not six weeks after his 19th birthday the boy’s limited term of existence had been significantly curtailed. He had no more years to look forward to only mere moments.
He walked in a single file line with his comrades under the darting eyes of their Japanese captors. His fingers were laced behind his head, and he didn’t dare move his hands to shield his eyes from the blinding tropical sun or the salty sting of his sweat. Breyers had spent his life in the vast cornfields of Middle America where the grey skies of winter lingered for months on end. The Pacific sun turned his flesh a pulsing red. The Japanese fleet loomed ominously in the still crystal blue waters. The massive steel barrels of their guns had returned to their resting position. Occasionally a grenade blast in the thick jungle rattled the birds out of the tr…

Aberrant Salience: The Secret Plot of the Kiss Army

Atone Timko was the newest division chief in the Administration for Internal Security. The Administration was housed in the People’s Revolutionary Headquarters. Which itself was an immense palace the deposed regime had built in the heart of the old capital.  After they shut the gates behind them, the revolutionaries proclaimed a new government for the people. The new stewards of the fortified citadel tore down the banners and flags embroidered with the symbol of the imperial family but kept in place the fortress walls patrolled by a legion of soldiers.

Atone’s department was in a windowless basement wing of the compound. It was in this sunless labyrinth where Antone and his army of agents and analysts obsessively looked for evidence of any plots against the revolutionary committee. The self-styled freedom fighters had set a dangerous precedent with their bloody coup and hoped they could avoid the same fate as the imperial family or for that matter the former members of the Revolutiona…