Here at EdiNile Industries, we are committed to putting man in a permanent habitat on the moon, and we’re doing it the only way we know how: grinding up the poor.
They followed the man with the white hair down the paved stones that wound its way through the private bungalows. Peggy had pulled the handkerchief she kept in her jacket pocket out and had it pressed up to her face. The scratches from the bark of the branch would heal pretty quickly, but the black eye and fat lip were going to linger. Aster was walking close enough next to her that their arms were brushing up against each other. After passing a couple of the bungalows Peggy took Aster’s hand and squeezed. They gave her a watery smile. It had never happened to Peggy, but she couldn’t imagine being possessed was a fun thing you could just throw off.
At first, all he was aware of was his stomach being pulled up into his throat and the sickening, nauseating squeeze and roll it was doing. His heart was pounding to beat out of his chest, pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears even over the air rushing by. His ears and nose immediately froze and became numb. He was squeezing his eyes shut so hard he could see silent green fireworks blooming over and over and over. The panic and fear inside had become so absolute and so pure it had replaced every single rational thought with nothing but loud television static.
The difference between setting yourself on fire from the minute you sit down to planning exactly when you will set yourself on fire. Or something. No one should listen to me.
Remember milk men? Of course you don’t, nobody does, that’s not a thing anymore. Put your email in the top box then click the bottom box for milk in your email.
High Urban Fantasy Jazz 