Author: translunartravelerslounge

Okay, this thing looks like it’s recording. The light is on, but I have no idea if it still really works. Not much else does, but I figured keeping a record of some kind is a good idea. Though I still don’t know what happened. We got hit by … something. A meteor maybe? Or an asteroid? All I know is that there is a gaping hole in the station, not far from the cells, and everything has gone to shit. Like deep shit.

Truths are vile beasts with needle-like fangs. They prefer to nest in the dark, but once they mature and come to light, they grow exponentially and devour all creatures in their path. The cold-blooded, lizard-like monsters have even been known to eat their young. They remind me of my mother.

The earthquake hit three days before Lee felt his son kick for the first time. It was early afternoon, and Lee was halfheartedly scrolling job listings online. Every cover letter revision, every time he uploaded his resume and then had to fill out a form with the same information, a tiny hole widened somewhere between his stomach and heart. That hole was where despair lived, and Lee tried to brick it up with thoughts of Carissa, of their unborn son.

The recipe for Ronny’s charm belonged to Mr. Chen, some retired chef who used run a cheap Chinatown restaurant. Truth be told, when Kaifeng first met Ronny at Venue in the west side of downtown, the part of the city filled with rich white folks, they did not expect that they would go so far for him. Yet here they were, seven months later, driving a beat-up Camry from Vancouver to San Francisco just to keep Ronny on this earth.

“How long has it been? A century?” asked Otto, spreading out in a wingback chair in a private booth. “Two, actually,” said Vanessa, perched like an owl on an identical chair opposite his, a table between them serving as a neutral zone. “I think carriages were still in fashion.”

Feather Rex is three pink boas to the wind. Synthetic ostrich feathers drift loose throughout the arena, while their plucked strings lie limp at Feather’s rotors. Some fluff has caught between Feather's arm plates, but most swirl over the broken metal in the centre of the ring. SolderBoy lasted three bouts, but once the boas snaked around Solder's arms, Feather only had to tighten until Solder's elbow joints locked together. After that, it was just pummeling.

Anika Bandele was certain she was being haunted. It was about time, she supposed.

For the god Brahma the Creator, the act of Creation was never a one-and-done affair. He understood that when releasing an unpredictable element like humanity in a newly designed world, it would take some cycles to work out the kinks. That was why Brahma believed in an iterative process: four Yugas to chart the inception, progress, decline, and collapse of the world under humanity, an honest post-mortem, followed by a new version of Creation, with an updated design informed by hard data.

ve been covering the night shift lately. It just makes sense. Bernie has kids and Trevor has early morning classes over at the state college in Weatherly. At our last staff meeting, Andy (our manager) kinda-sorta indicated that I should step up and cover for the other two. He likes to see his employees striving towards something—family, career, whatever—and encourages us to support each other in those ventures. It’s not like grocery store clerking is anybody’s life ambition. Except maybe for me.

You’ll believe the dead are finally contacting you one week after you move from the countryside to São Paulo, two weeks after you turn 30. And much like both the moving and the birthday, the experience will be kind of bittersweet.