The Author Blog of Jason H. Abbott
“It’s a spell?”
His suit is impeccable, the physique under it attractive. His head is a skull.
“Isn’t this a paradox?”
“I don’t do changing back,” Circe says.
Power is restored with a smoky haze of ozone.
It turns. It sees him.
The marine points at the mysterious rift. “2D-Bs!”
Can the Yanoth hear our thoughts in our hijacked bodies?
“You believe monsters or gods will save you?”
“We look like Ghostbusters,” he says.
We grew up together, and I could never love another.
“They can’t see me,” the girl wept. “How can I be home, and they can’t even see me?”
I found a skeleton key. It fits no door in the abandoned house.
“I feel alive again,” she says leaving the masquerade, “but you love a lie.”
“Shut up,” she stomps. “*Shut up!*”
“I see an angel. What do you see?”
His heart pounds. “I’m a software designer.”
“A god of technology,” she says.
“I’m not, Hephaestus.”
Once flesh and blood
Then bone and rag
Perhaps now I’m just a memory
One good shot does nothing.
She sat motionless, except for her hands on the viol.
I explain that I wasn’t always a tiny moth man. That I’m cursed.
“You’re not what I expected.”
In death, they ban me from their heaven.
I am obsolete: The new battle drones outclass me.
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