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 “C’mon!” Darren whispered, “hurry up before someone sees us!” He held the factory window open for Shawn and Devon, keeping his eyes peeled for nosy bystanders. Their friend Tommy’s dad was on guard shift tonight. That meant Tommy’s dad would be too drunk to catch them, even if they were seen. But…
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 Christopher Mitchell Scripture stood in front of her life’s work, amazed by her own brilliance. The lab was a din of noise. The whirring of the generator rose in pitch like an air raid siren. The whizzing of the steel ball reached terminal velocity inside the upright circular track, its rumblings stifled by the…
By Christopher Mitchell Part Two Her name had been Bright Moon, and Broken Spear had loved her all his life. Her father had protested the loss of his only daughter to the hunter’s persistent determination, but he was hers and she was his, and Broken Spear could not…would not…be assuaged of this fact. Twin-River eventually…
New to the Site? Catch Up Below By Christopher Mitchell Twelve Marcus cinched the last of their belongings to the back of Sceppio. Falbreth was already mounted, though it had taken Argos some coercion to allow the boy on his back. The horse was displeased that his long-time rider had not returned to claim him….
By Christopher Mitchell Nine Peck awoke with a start, realizing he’d drifted to sleep at some point during his watch. The sun had risen over the ruins of the village, the huts they’d set ablaze in the night now skeletal kindling and ash, sending streaks of smoke to drift lazily into the grey-cloaked sky. His…
By Christopher Mitchell Four Marcus worried. It was his nature to protect those around him; he’d been that way since he was a boy. He worried now, watching Peck toss stones as they walked northward, the boy keeping his mind occupied as the drudgery of marching dug itself into the marrow of his mind. Marcus…
The Culling by: Christopher Mitchell PART ONE: INCURSION Rocks and dust ground under the feet of echelons as they inched forward, step by cautious step. From near the base of the origin-source, High Clerics gave silent orders. Hand and arm signals, sending enforcers to search for higher ground, urging those nearby to close in to…