Tag Archives: short stories

Dreams, in Three Scenes

Scene One

The world beyond was white and featureless. The vault is all there was, rising from the endless waste in stark contrast, black, angular, foreboding. Inside, on a network of computers, was the last bastion of human knowledge. He was there to protect it.

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Russian Roulette Brain Soup

A change of pace, before I get back to Perrin. I was just about to drift off to sleep in my chair the other night and my dream self dumped the idea into my head just like that. Not sure what to say about it except that it’s darkly disturbing. Is it ironic or just absurd? Is there a point to it? I’m honestly not sure. But I wrote it down anyway. Who am I to question my dream self?

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