Ghosts of Venice
Literary Fiction
The Abstract Elephant Magazine
It was very early in the morning and most of Venice Beach was still asleep. The only sounds were those of the ocean waves crashing and the raucous, echoing yells of a Homeless Man leaning into his stereotype as he held a spirited debate with a fire hydrant. The sun was already shining very white and bright and the wind was blowing in lightly from the Pacific, carrying with it just a hint of rot.
Gil stood on the fire escape, admiring the morning and the way the dew from the night still dampened the windows of people’s homes and left idle cars under a layer of freckled water. He thought of the chemical coating that protected cars’ paint jobs from wear and their metal from rust. Everything, he observed, must need that — a protective layer. He then wondered what his own protective coatings were and upon more self-reflection, his mind settled on several, he tried to imagine his life without them. The thoughts frightened him, but he would never admit that openly.
Overlooking the world around him, he inhaled the last remnants of his joint, and watched the Homeless Man below as he told the fire hydrant to go to hell, picked up his cardboard sign and lit a half-smoked cigarette.
The fool stared down from atop his hill. King Gil the most righteous, arbiter of the truth, his intentions good, but unsure of what that actually meant. He felt a deep sympathy for the Homeless Man, but also a sense of superiority that he did not question.
He looked down at the cracked screen of his smartphone; 6:15. Her alarm would go off in fifteen minutes. He needed to get her coffee started — it was his way of starting her day on the right note. He wanted her to wake-up happy, they had fought last night and had both gone to bed angry... Click to read the entire story.
The Appointment
Science Fiction Noir
ANOMS Horror/Sci-fi anthology
This was his only chance at a second life.
He knew it.
He knew he had to do it.
But still, he was pissed that his world had come to this.
Orion sat up in his bed. He had been lying on top of the covers, fully and neatly dressed in his grey three-piece and black derbies. He took a cigarette from inside the nightstand, lit it, and took a long drag. For a few minutes, he just watched his smoke rings float to the ceiling. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night. What was the use now anyway? If he could do the thing, then he would sleep well tonight and if he couldn’t? He’d sleep just the same. At least this would all be over.
He thought about his pistol then pulled it from its case, placed his fingers on the biometric reader and turned it on. He cocked the weapon and checked the ammunition— good to go. He eyed his watch: 0600. He had done all the planning he could.
He finished smoking his cigarette while listening to the sounds of the city. The hard rain bouncing off the pavement mixed with the soft wobble of VTOL cars rushing through the air always reminded him of his mother. He thought of her and gripped the pistol. Soon.
He got out of bed, walked to the mirror and looked himself over while he began running through his mental checklist. He would need to time his decoupling perfectly. The city’s anti-crime system had a fail-safe and his hack would only allow him to disconnect for three minutes at most.
Orion put his hat on and looked himself over once more. He was ready. He stepped out of his front door, jaw clenched, eyes fixed, determined.
He was instantly punched in the face.