Rite of Passage

Killing Banshees ran deep in my blood. I was born on a ship infested with the screamers and my first wails drowned out theirs. My first kill was at age seven after spying one washing the armor of my father. He lost sight in his right eye that day, but he lived and would continue to live until the Old Ravages came to take him away.

I almost didn't catch the Banshee that had been sent for me. A fierce battle raged all around. My focus was on the King and the King's men. I slew the Banshee come for the King and turned just in time to see the one for me. She held my armor in her hands, her wails piercing through my skull as the blood ran free.

The wailing stopped briefly and her hands paused. Though blind, she knew I saw her. She began again as I started for her, my sword at ready.

One swipe took her head from her neck and she and my armor disappeared. I returned to battle, my life protected until the Old Ravages came to take me away.

The Hive

Scan. 

            Thousands of years had passed, breaking down the why and the who of the missions.  Billions of drones had been copied beyond recognition and degraded to pure psi energy to feed the Central Minds.

            Locate.

            All intelligent life was the enemy.  As soon as it became detectable, the Executives searched for weakness.  Fear.  All of those Aware had fear.  All fear was theirs to exploit.

            Destroy.

            Distance did not matter.  Galaxies meant nothing.  Thought traveled anywhere at its own speed as long as the destination was clear.  It killed quickly and brutally, ignoring the screams.

            This is a flash fiction from the extended universe around my ongoing serial Wolves of Shayid.  Feel free to head on over there and check it out!

The Rise of Arrrbuckles

When the zombies came, it was a bit of a surprise.  For a lot of people, it was slightly more of a surprise when their chosen deity didn’t bamf into existence and vanquish the unclean things.  (Turns out no one--gods included--really wanted to touch them.)  The biggest surprise?

The Ninjas.

They came out of nowhere and the putrefied heads began to roll.  City streets were covered in decapitated corpses.  The zombie outbreak was put down as quickly as it appeared.  Everyone was saved.  The Ninjas were victorious.

Until the Pirates showed up.

The zombies were a ruse, a ploy, to bring out the mortal enemy of the Pirates.  

Everyone, Ninjas included, had forgotten that Pirates loved the Caribbean and that the Caribbean invented zombies.  The people native to the Caribbean were tired of tourists and the Pirates wanted their mortal enemies flushed out so they could be destroyed.  They struck up a deal.  There was no way they could lose as long as everyone was careful with the flatware.

No one knows which of them dropped the spoon.  It was a nice spoon.  Sterling silver, really ornate handle.  It was a complete accident that it dropped, but fortune doesn’t favor the clumsy.

The Frenzy was unimaginable.  Luckily, it only affected Pirates.  As long as you didn’t dress like one, you were safe.  (It took a few dead poets and the Massacre of Wichita Theater Group Presents Hook: Smee’s One Man’s Sail Tale to make that connection.)

It ended after three months when a cabin boy picked up the spoon to put it away.  By then, the Pirates were down to the last and the Ninjas had so many katanas on back order they were stealing those big rounded steak knives from restaurants and slowly sawing people to death.

When they came out of their frenzy, they slipped back into their shadows without a word.  Inspired by the Ninjas and their ingenuity, the Pirates left alive started a chain of steak houses called Arrrbuckles where no spoons are allowed.

Sometimes, a Ninja shows up and steals their knives.

We at Arrrbuckles hope you enjoyed the story of how we came to be!  Please be sure to ask your serving wench about our Steak Tarrr Tarrr and, really--we can't stress this enough!--no spoons.  Enjoy your meal!