What if you were the last human on Earth?
Alone
By
Grover
10/22/11

Standing back from the window, so I wouldn't be seen, I stared outside using my binoculars. Studying how the aliens moved and their facial expressions, I practiced in the mirror. It had to be absolutely perfect so I would fit in.

Food was running low, and making midnight supply runs was proving more and more difficult. I was running out of options, and had no choice, but to make a brazen public appearance to get what I want. In theory, if I kept my mouth shut I should pass.

Turning to the mirror, I'd paid that price. While the rest of the world was being re-made, I'd mostly escaped, mostly. My body was completely hairless, and was androgynous as a 10 year old boy. At least I still had eyes, ears, a nose and mouth. Sighing, I didn't want to admit even that had been taken away from me. It was debatable that I was lucky or not in stumbling into that walk-in freezer.

Have all you high fantasy fans out there ever wondered about other explanations when it was you read that the Witch-king, demon or whatever the baddie is would not fall "by the hand of man?" I have.

No Man’s Hand
By
Grover
1/7/2011

Their brave company had accomplished the impossible. The antidote to cure Good King Phillip was in their hands. Now all they had to do was get it back to the Kingdom, but time was not on their side.

The insidious poison Lord Night used to cut down the King could only be slowed, while the antidote could only be made from the same rare flowers that the deadly poison was brewed. It took the intrepid heroes days of hard travel to reach the dread Lord’s keep, and bold action bordering on insanity to enter that terrifying garden of death to harvest those frightful blooms.

The four travelling companions introduced themselves to the giantess, Dorothy and then the others all shaking her large hand. The woman smiled shyly, "I'm Joan Jones."

"That's a peculiar sort of name," said The Tin Woodsman.

Sheepishly, Joan removed the noose from around her neck and said, "To some around here I'm known as The Hung Woman."

Despite her gentle demeanor the Cowardly Lion felt intimidated by the sheer size of her. He stammered, "But whuh-why do they call you a hung woman if you h-haven't hung yourself yet?"

"And shouldn't that be 'hanged woman'?" asked the Scarecrow, scratching his head.

Traveling North

Thirty years have passed yet in my mind it is always you, with Jimmy still a tiny baby in your arms that I still see.