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 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…
By Christopher Mitchell The next few weeks passed in sunrise after sunset. Oliver tended the fields, getting them ready for planting, while Penelope walked alongside him or sat in a chair when he had to work the forge. She read to him every day. And as their habits became intertwined, they began to work in…
By Christopher Mitchell “Me?” Penelope asked, letting the question hang heavy in the air between them. Oliver leaned against the door frame and thought carefully on the right words to say. “I think,” He started, speaking slowly to give himself time to process each word for impact, “I was meant to build it…because I knew…
By Christopher Mitchell The sky was on fire. From above, as the planet erupted in a ball of bright blue flame, war raged in the aether. Fleet Destroyers painted the black void with yellow-orange tongues of light, exploding silently as the vacuum consumed them. The expanding ball of flame flashed vividly against the backdrop of…
By Christopher Mitchell It was his fourteenth meeting, and Alex Macombe had yet to speak. It was a survivor’s group, one where they shared their feelings and cried and sang kumbaya and hugged out their sadness. Alex couldn’t understand how they did it—couldn’t fathom how it was so easy for them to speak of their…
Nighthawks By Christopher Mitchell Sam Hawthorne took another sip of lukewarm coffee and reminisced on a duller world. Fluorescent white lights buzzed overhead in tandem with the LED streetlamps outside, reflecting operating-room-white from every surface with a brilliance that stung the eyes and robbed the space of its vibrance. Sam hated those lights. He tried…
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…