The young filly was such a feeble little thing, I was scared I wouldn’t be able to get her home before the wolves returned. The green meadow grass was splattered with scarlet blood, and the filly’s bay coat was matted with patches of it. She was young, still gangly and too wobbly to stand on her long legs, but I wondered if that wasn’t just exhaustion and shock. Even I was a bit unsteady on my feet, though the pack of sleek gray predators had fled as soon as they saw me.
Strange, I thought, that the wolves would run at the sight of a human, since in this half of the New Continent humans were only allowed as visitors. I was one of those visitors, part of a group that had come to see the splendor of a land where humans were forbade from entry except for short periods, and without the aid of any technology newer than that used in around 1300 C.E. Despite the fact that all of this was meant to keep the human impact on the environment and lifeforms of New Continent to a bare minimum I could not leave the frightened filly to her fate. The dark liquid eyes that stared at me from her narrow face compelled me to lift her trembling body in my arms and carry her back to home camp with me.
“Rub the tip for good luck,” Granny said, gesturing to the squat statue perched on the stone table by the front entrance.
“I know, Granny,” I reached out and rubbed my hand over the well polished tip as I had ever since my first visit to her house back when my father had to lift me by the armpits so that I could reach.
She watched me with a critical eye, finally stepping aside to let me into the house after she determined I had rubbed off enough luck. “Tea or whiskey?”
“Whiskey,” I said immediately, “one rock.” I was twelve the first time she asked and had hesitantly responded with tea. I only made that mistake once. Continue reading
Grendela climbed the volcano in the early morning light of her 13th birthday. Thirteen was a magic age. At 13 she would become a fully-fledged kaiju. Grendela: Destroyer of Cities. It was supposed to be a great honor in her family. They had a nice little village all picked out for her to smash into the ground this morning. There would be a ceremony while the villagers fled for their lives. Her grandmother had probably made a cake. It was probably cooling right now, waiting to be frosted.
She wasn’t going to destroy any villages today, though. Let them eat her cake without her; she didn’t care. Her whole family were kaiju, dating back to the old days of the legendary monsters. But Grendela didn’t want to be a kaiju.
She wanted to be an environmental scientist. Continue reading
Welcome to the second half of 2016 here at the Confabulator Cafe! We’ve been going strong, with great new stories and a bunch of new faces! We hope you’ve enjoyed what we’ve served up so far.
This month, with Independence Day nearing and summer vacation in full swing, we decided to explore family traditions. Picnics, block parties, pool play dates, firework wars, water fights…only, since it’s the Confabulator Cafe, we decided to make it a little more interesting, so we are delving into bizarre family traditions this month.
We’ll leave it up to you to decide if these family traditions are ours or if they are completely fabricated. Although I suppose confabulation is a key word, here.
Here’s the schedule for July! Enjoy. And try not to blow any fingers off on the 4th.
Monday, July 4: “Accidental Kaiju” by Dianne Williams
Monday, July 11: “Luck and Whiskey” by Eliza Jaquays
Monday, July 18: “The Wolf Pack” by Isabel Nee
Monday, July 25: “The Unbrella” by Anita C. Young
Friday, July 29: “Wedding Breafkast” by Emily Mosher
Ethan glanced over to one of the master inbox piles, but it was still empty. “I can’t believe business is so slow right now,” he said, tapping his pen against his desk in frustration.
“Well, but isn’t that a good thing?” Benny asked. “I mean, if we’re not processing any new clients, it means no one is dying… so… if we’re slow, it means people are still alive.”
Morris rolled his eyes. “No, Benny, it’s not a good thing. It means we’re just going to get swamped later. All people die. It’s inevitable. You should know,” he added, as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his desk drawer.
“Hey, low blow!” Ethan said, stepping between his two cubicle mates. “C’mon, Morris, the guy’s only been here for, like, a week. Surely it took you some time to adjust to being dead?” Continue reading