The Brontide Beast

“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. 

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The Robot Sphere

Jeremy Falls remembered when he first came to Roaring Ridge (where there was no roaring and no ridge to speak of). It was a clear and cloudless Tuesday. The first person he’d met was the sheriff. The second person he’d met was the owner of the town’s only diner. The first impression he’d made was as a decent enough fella, passing through town on his way to the mountains. The second impression he’d made, after settling in as the town’s newest resident, was as a conspiracy theorist, and the town crazy.

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