Completed Works
By Christopher Mitchell Crawler Attack “We got crawlers coming this way!” shouted Pick, keeping his eyes on the tumultuous mass of the crawler swarm. “Sergeant Freeman?” “On it!” The old vet barked, “alright boys, let’s show these civilians what The Cav can do! Form up!” The green vines were certainly new, Pick could tell, but…
By Christopher Mitchell The Scouting Party Pick woke as the black skyline shifted to dawning gray. He dressed quickly, grabbed his gear and rushed outside before he missed the show. He greeted the men he passed, his pack held over his shoulder, letting his feet guide him to the lookout post. The eagle’s nest, as…
By Christopher Mitchell Wire Pick kept his ears open and his eyes in the stars as Booker plodded toward the lights on the side of the mountain. Mattock walked beside Cripple, giving the horse an opportunity to rest its back from carrying his heavy Irish ass. He whistled softly, arm draped over the nape of…
By Christopher Mitchell The Crawler Hunt Pick rode under a violet sky, unaware of the rest of the world around him. His horse, Booker, plodded slowly up the Arizona basin, much less enthusiastic about how the pinks melded with deep oranges as his riding partner was. But the view was majestic, nonetheless. And as Father Sun finally bowed its…
By Christoper Mitchell Broken Spear knelt to inspect the steaming scat of his hunted prey. It smelled of digested lichen and willow buds. He looked in the direction of Osu—The Giver. The glare hurt his eyes, and he raised his hands to blot out the face of the father god. Osu’s brother, Uru, had…
New to the Site? Catch Up Below: By Christoper Mitchell V. Sickle sat on the bed, cleaning Dorothy while Parchment stood staring out the window of the hotel room. It had been three hours since their contact with Ink, and Sickle had grown restless. Dismantling the shoulder mount had become a great stress relief—almost as…
New to the Site? Catch Up Below: By Christoper Mitchell III. They’d dropped their bags off at the hotel, Sickle and Parchment washing the stink of travel from their bodies before heading to the rendezvous point. It was at the north end of Lake St. Clair, moonlight bouncing off the port water and shimmering against…