A Sewing Machine From 1919

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My daughter and I stared at the machine.

“I like that it’s black,” she said.  “And those designs are so cool.  There’s so much detail.  Why doesn’t ours look like this?  I might even use it if it looked like this.  Wait…”  She turned to me.  “Do you think it still works?”

I peered at the machine sitting on the kitchen table, the sewing machine that I had inherited from my grandmother almost fifteen years ago.  Long before Selma was born.  I hadn’t laid eyes on it in all that time (even the few times I’d moved, I’d kept it packed away or covered).  And before that, I’d never seen it at all.  Continue reading

An Aphid Named Quintillion

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“How can we know for certain what the truth is, unless we seek to find it?” an aphid named Quintillion argued.

She kept her wings respectfully folded as she stood before the Council of Grand Numerators.  But she dared to sweep aside the train of glittering white filaments that plumed from her back, a particular characteristic of her tribe.

“They came out of the primordium, just as we did,” she said.  “They are not beasts.  They are an intelligent species.  They are potential companions.” Continue reading

Neotrillium

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Chloe glanced again at the handsome man who was lingering at a sculpture.  The sculpture was a caryatid, a column shaped like a woman, in this case, a celestial being.  He gazed up at the stone carving of the heavily robed Herald of the Gods.  The Herald too seemed to gaze down at him.  She pointed up to the heavens with a hand that held a scroll, the scroll upon which was written the spell that brought the world into being.  Her other arm bent gracefully behind her head.  The sculptor had captured the moment just before the herald unrolled the scroll and read the spell.  The moment when she stretched after a long journey from the center of creation to its outer edge, where the gods had deigned the mortal world should be placed.  The moment before she spoke the spell and the world bloomed into existence. Continue reading

The Brontide Beast

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“Earthquakes?  This ain’t California.”

Sheriff Lockley shook her head at her deputy.

“Well it’s not Kansas either and we get the occasional tornado some summers,” she said, peering at the television screen in her office.

The sheriff, two deputies, and the science reporter for the Acton Daily were watching the latest report on the strange rumblings that had started almost a year ago.

“We’re just lucky, Grubbs” the reporter said.  “We get a little taste of all the natural disasters.”

Grubbs crossed her arms and frowned.  “If it’s just earthquakes, why is it happening a few times a week now?  I’ve never heard of that.  That can’t be natural.”

Lockley wondered the same thing.

*** Continue reading