Fiction that explores the monsters and strangers among us.

Monday, January 28, 2019

Pure Mess Again

No more water under the bridge. Instead, boats and barges traverse the city by circling around the old canal, and a river no longer runs through it. Trucks meander the asphalt ribbon.

Imagine a highway built upon a river bottom. Envisage how many layers we paved before the route held. With every stratum but the last, the street sank beneath the mud, No matter concrete or bitumen. Finally, after we had buried a 20-foot-thick slab of roadbed sheets, it worked this time.

What do you mean the weather report calls for rain?

Alternate ending: What do you mean there might be a body buried down there?

Book Selection: Snpgrdxz and the Time Monsters