The Writings of Mary Lewys

As part of Warren Ellis’ Remake/Remodel Flash Fiction @ The Engine

The Master said it came in the mail, but we haven’t had anybody to the castle in forever. He’s clever, my Master – read the big, thick Electronics Service book in one night. He tinkered and putzed until the big mechanical box supported the triangle screen.

It promised such things to my Master, so many wondrous things that he smiled for the first time in years. My Master said we could take over the world. He said there is nothing he can’t do. The aliens in the box promised him everything.

I don’t think the aliens know what they’ve done.

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© Mary Lewys, 2007

The Master said it came in the mail, but we haven’t had anybody to the castle in forever. He’s clever, my Master – read the big, thick Electronics Service book in one night. He tinkered and putzed until the big mechanical box supported the triangle screen.

It promised such things to my Master, so many wondrous things that he smiled for the first time in years. My Master said we could take over the world. He said there is nothing he can’t do. The aliens in the box promised him everything.

I don’t think the aliens know what they’ve done.

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© Mary Lewys, 2007

He sat on his back porch, a cement block covered in Astroturf, in an old aluminum chair his grandfather was going to throw out. It was night with every star in the sky. He tried the find the constellations his father taught him, but the glare from the neighbor’s all-night, security light, the kind that lit up their whole backyard, took some of the splendor away.

If his shotgun was handy, he would’ve fixed that problem. All he had was his sword, sheathed and resting across his lap. Things of the day, rabbits, squirrels, possums, required the shotgun. The things that came at night, the things that go bump, could only be slain by a sword.

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© Mary Lewys, 2007