Author
M. J. Pettit
Thrifting with the Snow Queen
Saturdays are reserved for charity shops and thrift stores. On this, Marnie and I agree. No matter the troubles the weekdays bring, on Saturdays we always make the time to ride the 142 bus to Didsbury, the choicest hunting ground in our vicinity. Our day starts at the teashop…
The Hard-Bitten Outskirts of the World's Only Undersea City
Cousteau City isn't all geodesic domes glittering with bioluminescence. The place disappoints. It leaks. Constantly. The corridors stink of semi-processed kelp. The cephalopod cardsharps overestimate their precognitive abilities and the uplifted dolphins get cranky when the…
Delicate like the Traces on a Carbon Privateer
The faded blackbird circles the ship, searching for a path to land. Squint and I can discern the sharp-edged folds giving her avian form, but our crude impressions flatter the expectant eye. Raven buckles in the headwind. Another gust will tear her. She looks that pale and thin.…
Afterhours at the Eversure Insurance Company
Maria wondered how her employer could afford to replace his skin as often as he did. He looked more like an intern than the vice president of the Eversure Insurance Company. But then Mister Bakewell possessed all the accoutrements befitting his standing in the gerontocracy. He…
The Egress
July 12, 1865 Dear Mister Barnum, It's time for the American Prometheus to head toward the egress. Yes, I know the sign pointing "this way to the egress" only leads to the exit. I've watched the museumgoers disappear through that doorway as they search for your latest wonder.…