“Nasir, do you think another tattoo is necessary?” asked the robotic skull from its place hanging on a dusty shelf. His eyes glowed azure.
Nasir lifted his gaze from the pencil-sized steel spike—his rudimentary device for embedding the crushed blue Caerulum
“His mama left him.”
I fumbled to take off my reading glasses and blinked at my seven-year-old nephew, hoping the creature in his arms might turn out to be a puppy or barn cat. Alas, the round ears and dark spots peppering the buff-colored fur said
Kazimir reveled in power that exceeded expectation. Mind-control of the dragon he found in the mountains empowered him over nature itself. He now possessed the ability to destroy what is, in order to recreate that which could be. He was a god!
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I have nobody to blame but myself for bringing home that blasted opossum.
Last week, I gazed down at it, sprawled wounded and unmoving in a cratered building.
My conscience wouldn’t let me leave it.
So I brought it home.
Playing nursemen for the criminal cyborg started
They came back the year the soil softened.
Not the birds. Not the stray cats. Not even the neighbors who had long since decided the lot was cursed.
The ants.
At first, it was a line—thin as a thought—threading
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