Fleurs du Mal

I wondered then if there was inside my brother a seed of sorts, a slender elongated bulb like those I'd seen in Anne's workroom. Thinking the police would never know, I drew the coverlet away, revealing the bloody mess of his shirt. A large hole gaped several inches beneath his chin, just to the left of the breastbone. I dropped the blanket back over him and stepped back, shaking in fury.

She stroked the globe of one of the sickly plants. The fronds inside followed the motion of her fingers.
As Below, So Above

Son squeezed billows of black ink around the ship to mask his approach, remembering what Two-Father had told him: Always curl your tentacles around the front, never in the back where the whirling tail-blades lie. Never rest your tips on the deck, lest they chop off the ends of your sensing-limbs. And should you brush against a long, thin tube of metal, draw away quickly before it squirts fire.

Son positioned himself under the ship, spreading his tentacles out to caress the hull’s curve.
Audio Fiction Podcast:
Bread and Circuses

Podcast: Download (Duration: 32:39 — 22.43MB)

She and I made bread every day knowing that if the grain didn't ripen, we were next in line to be cut down.