Author: William Roberts

He hated his jacket but loved what it hid.  It was a relic from the worst year of his life, it too had seen mud and shells and gas.  The small rain of the evening grew after the sunset, bringing with it a fog that softened the city’s hard edges into pockets of shadow and… Continue reading The Color Below →

Julia gripped her rifle and hopped onto a streetcar heading to the front.  Half the seats were empty, so she picked one near the back door where she could be alone.  She rested her head on the window and the Mosin between her knees.  As the car lurched forward, her hand moved down her leg… Continue reading The Ride to Work →

The bridge looked ancient, hanging with moss and swaying gently above the surging river.  Smoke and painful cries drifted from the jungle beyond where her son's half of the plane went down.  The bridge creaked, and she started walking.  It snapped and she started to run.

Mary watched the patch sink and croaked out a weak cry.  Bubbles continued to erupt from the torn seam.  She cupped the rupture with her sun blistered hands and tried to think.  There was nothing in sight but a dull grey fin as her raft settled lower into the sea.

We've lost contact with the Orion, they took alot of damaged and were having trouble breaking out of orbit. There could still be hope. I doubt it, getting free of that gravity is rough. Didn't you say it was our sister ship? No, I said it was my sister's ship.

She awoke from a fitful sleep. The heat in her tent was oppressive, pressing down despite the late hour. From outside came a low rumbling sound, a noise that she neither liked nor recognized. Looking across the small space, she saw her uncle peacefully asleep with his back to her. The sound persisted and she… Continue reading A Lady and A Cat →

The road twist and split, diverging into a thousand asphalt paths that scaled mountains and ran along streams.  Abe rolled with the hills, taking whatever turn caught his fancy in the moment. Small roads fed to big highways, which branched to small roads once again.  The sun had just begun its lazy fall to the… Continue reading A Break for Saltwater: Part Two →

Abe starred out at the sun-drenched parking lot and muttered to himself.  The view was nothing worth looking at for more than a second. Still, he had been sitting in an uncomfortable, but nice looking, chair in the nursing home’s lobby for more than two hours.  People came and went, cars shifted about, all the… Continue reading A Break for Saltwater: Part One →

The sound of scratching above my head pulled me from a fitful sleep.  I rolled over onto my back and looked up at the ceiling only a foot away from my face.  Ravens, cawing and hopping back and forth above, reminded me that I had forgotten to wash off the deck last night.  A weak… Continue reading Some Reading With Breakfast →

The sun had just set as the plane lowered its landing gear and started its final approach.  Out the window, I could see the sprawling city in ruins below me. The dying light cast deepening shadows over a warren of rubble and tarp shelters.  Palm trees swayed peacefully by the shimmering bay on one side,… Continue reading Of Drugs and Chicken →