Titan’s reflection on the spaceport’s panels reminded Gillian of a squeezed orange over monochrome tableware.
“Earth awaits.” The Captain pointed at the shuttle’s hatch. “I’ll retrieve artefacts and Corinthian marble. You?”
The once-Blue Planet had nothing left but ocean-ravaged megalopolis, a hunting ground for nostalgic souls.
“Seashells and broken hearts.”
Russell Hemmell is an alien from Mintaka snuggled into a (consenting) human host. Recent fiction has appeared on Aurealis, The Grievous Angel, New Myths, and elsewhere. See more at earthianhivemind.net and @SPBianchini.
While I explore the famed Loch Lomond, an insect darts over my head, and whispers. “Hello, mortal.”
It’s a she: wings and tiny antlers. “Am I crazy?”
“No. You entered a haunted zone.”
“You’re a ghost, then.”
“Only sprites and water fairies, here.” She whistles softly. “And I’m your guide.”
Russell Hemmell is an alien from Mintaka snuggled into a (consenting) human host. His fiction has appeared on Gone Lawn, Not One of Us, Strangelet, and elsewhere. See more at earthianhivemind.net.
“Made of rosewood, padauk, or simple plastic, resounding with two octaves or many, and whatever mallet pleases you, but xylophones remain just that: quivering fountains of life.”
“I can’t play,” she told her lover.
“You’ll learn, for me.” The music-breathing alien placed her hand on the idiophones, and smiled.
Russell Hemmell is an alien from Mintaka snuggled into a (consenting) human host. He’s had fiction published in PerihelionSF, Strangelet Journal, Vine Leaf Literary Journal, and elsewhere.