“Humanity’s greatest adventure: a footprint on Mars. We had enough to survive, but not, it turns out, to live. The rot was in our souls, sick for home, for green. Darkness took them one by one. Only I remain, marooned, looking to the stars for a final glimpse of home.”
Bill is from Aberdeen, Scotland. He is the end product of a centuries long breeding programme designed to produce the perfect human being. It didn’t work.
Out in Jupiter orbit, Langdon woke, his panicked breathing echoing through his space suit.
A nearby helium miner picked up his SOS. Their medic examined him; traumatic amnesia, she said. They began the journey back to Callisto base.
Inside his body the creature stirred, sensing the presence of new prey.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. A cadre of monks maintain the chant, keeping the nightmares trapped in his head. If they should falter, then the whole universe would tremble…
“Bargaining with the Sidhe is dangerous. They can’t be trusted!”
I ignored her.
“I want to live forever,” I told them.
“Then we’ll give you a form that will last through eternity,” they replied.
Now I stand here in the circle, one stone among many, watching the aeons drift past.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. As he rises to the top of his profession, he awaits with morbid curiosity his inevitable fall from grace.
Sitting in his laboratory; the phone rings. Puzzled, Alexander Graham Bell picks up his prototype.
“Hello sir, we understand you recently had an accident. Have you thought about seeking compensation?”
Further calls follow for solar panels, magazine subscriptions, and double-glazing.
He does the world a favour and destroys the prototype.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland. His dreams are long dead but his nightmares remain in robust health.
He crossed the finish line well ahead of the other athletes. The crowd cheered, a distant roar, but he didn’t stop.
In his mind, her voice was pleading, begging: “Don’t let me die here!”
Muscles pumping, heart racing, he sprinted on, the ghosts of his past hard on his heels.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland, which will become the capital of his world empire when he completes his anti-matter bomb. But first lunch.
Alone in the office at night a slow madness overtakes me. It begins with a paperclip chain. It ends when the cleaner finds me, the Emperor of the Paper Cup People, berating the massed ranks of my subjects, my nudity covered only by yellow sticky notes. The horror! The horror!
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland, where he works as a professional haggis hunter.
A body on the floor, warm blood drip, drip, dripping onto the carpet.
He has my face. My beautiful young face.
I was going to set things right. That’s what the time machine was for. But he wouldn’t listen and I got angry.
I always was my own worst enemy.
Bill lives in Aberdeen, Scotland where, in between the odd piece of writing, he plots the downfall of humanity on behalf of his Martian overlords.
“Three months a castaway on a remote Pacific island, struggling to survive, when a crate washes ashore. The language is Chinese but it’s obviously beer. My luck is finally turning, he thinks. He glugs it down.
On the side of the bottle, written in Mandarin: “The best-tasting non-alcoholic beer ever!”
Bill is from Aberdeen, Scotland. He writes for fun, but really wouldn’t object if someone wants to pay him a shed-load of cash to carry on, or a shed-load of cash to stop now. Both work for him.
Heading south through the ruins, I startle three deer. Their barks echo through the concrete canyons as they run.
I see ever more plants breaking through the tarmac; a green infection. I pause to watch the sunrise. The morning light has a golden quality.
Manhattan has never looked so lovely.
Bill lives in Aberdeen Scotland. He is considered a pioneer in the art of slacking off by many, but he can’t be bothered seeking accreditation.
A beautiful flower, blooming for a season; radiant colour, my soul lifted. All things are fleeting, the fragile more so. Your short season over, you left us, transformed back into the loam, nourishing the earth as your love once nurtured me. Goodbye my daughter. Your time short; your existence profound.
Bill lives in Aberdeen Scotland. He tried to be good once. It didn’t take.