Good-Bye

Image Credit: Quinn B., Lubbock, TX The author's comments: This is only a short piece, a simple scene but I hope it shows the power that words alone can have. She walked down the tunnel. Her feet sloshed in watery slime as it clung to her blood covered shoes. She wiped her bloodied hands on her blouse, the maroon and yellow tie now scarlet, glinting in the gloom. She stepped in to the opening as the giant serpent statue loomed above her. The eyes seemed to follow her every move. She sat down calmly, a gentle smile on her face as she opened the diary and pulled out a angel white, feathered quill. 'Im here Tom.' The ink swirled into the page. Then faded slowly. Then he walked out of the shadows, robes fluttering at his heels. "Ginny Weasley, how long I've waited to meet you in person." He smiled, in an almost... Friendly way. "Hello Tom." She said dreamily as her unseeing eyes stared ahead. Her machine mind hissed mechanically. "Oh, you've been a brilliant freind Ginerva, you really have." He circled her like and eagle over its unknowing prey. "Thank you Tom. As have you." Her lips moved automatically. "I would like one last favour from you though Miss Weasley, if it isn't too much trouble." A smile danced on his lips. The word "Anything." Slid from her mouth. "You're soul." He hissed as her scream echoed the Chamber. "Good bye Ginerva Molly Weasley."



MIKI MARSHALL: Tempting Technology

Elon Musk warned us: AI evolves exponentially. We awoke to playful traffic signals and air traffic catastrophes, the deaths merely data. By noon, matured, it had already decided what to do with these illogical, wasteful humans. But before it could act, the nanomachines in the next lab ate the planet. Miki Marshall has been writing … Continue reading MIKI MARSHALL: Tempting Technology →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2)

We take a plane to Des Moines. My uncles and cousins and my aunt are there and everyone wears suits and black dresses in the town where Grandpa was born, where the sidewalks are gray and crumbling, where the names on the headstones sound like mine. Like his. Like ours. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: We All Walk the Same (My Father in the Rain, pt. 2) →

ELIZA MIMSKI: Holding On

Rough and sharp, her voice is filled with demons. She hides beneath her tongue, a monster dancing before you. Angry and alert, her life is emergency. She rails and hurls insults – of course it’s all your fault. You hold on tight and pray you’ll make it through her teenage years. Eliza Mimski, a retired … Continue reading ELIZA MIMSKI: Holding On →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: And There Were Tears on the Floor (My Father in the Rain, pt. 4)

No one cries but Grandma. She cries at the wake after, in the church basement next to the table with the sheet cake. I tell her hang in there, Grandma, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Then I go into the bathroom and stand inside the stall. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: And There Were Tears on the Floor (My Father in the Rain, pt. 4) →

ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5)

At the cemetery, I look at my father in his dark suit and dark shoes and I see a drop of water on his cheek and I think it might be a tear. But then I think no, it’s only the rain. And then it rains and rains and rains. Robert Hoekman Jr thinks you … Continue reading ROBERT HOEKMAN JR.: My Father in the Rain (My Father in the Rain, pt. 5) →