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Tag - Stories That Sing – 1980s
“Mr. Everhart, you’re daydreaming again.” Mrs. Crandle taps the screen at the front of the room, her finger poised like a knife, ready to slice through what’s left of my dignity.
At that moment, the heavens smile. “Mrs. Crandle,” Principal Owens’ voice booms through the intercom. “Daniel Everhart is needed in the office.
I wound my way through octahedron-shaped tables occupied by a variety of alien species and approached the only other human in the bar. “Fancy meeting you here, Flynn.”
As soon as his hazel eyes rested on me, I wished I’d dressed cuter than corporate casual. And taken more care with my hair and makeup.
Roy pulled the cover back and took a long look at Charlene. His heart pounded as he slid his hand along her backside. He figured she had rested long enough. “Wanna go for a spin, baby?”
Charlene was in pristine condition, with all original parts, right down to her factory color—hugger orange with twin white rally stripes. She was his dream car—a 1969 Camaro Z/28.
It was completely transforming the Moon, and I was the last hope of stopping it.
As I waited on the balcony of the one human-accessible building there, I stared out at the vast network of steel and silicon. It looked like the inside of a laptop, but on a monstrous scale. There were trains, ships, and satellites moving in a myriad of ways, spinning and whizzing and drifting, a jigsaw in perpetual motion. I felt dizzy and weak and had to turn away.Read it now
Standing atop a hill at least half a mile from the amphitheater, the distant 80’s classics thrum through my head. The band isn’t overly popular, but they’re free, so the place is packed. The outskirts are the perfect place for an introvert like me. This is shaping up to be an extraordinary evening.Read it now
Vera’s air lasted just long enough to finish the song, and then her throat closed. Wheezing, she dipped a curtsy to sparse applause. Before she could faint onstage, she pushed through the hazy gambling hall and escaped outside.
A gaslight supported her as she fought to catch her breath. At least she’d finished her set, unlike last night.
This should be easy. I am an assassin. He is my target.
Why is this not easy?
I stand in the shadows at the corner of the muddy alley, staring at him. He stands with his back toward me in the dark doorway of a wooden building. The alley drips with sparse raindrops.