Christopher Seymour
Bio
In my career as a mining engineer, I have lived in California, New Mexico, South Africa, Australia and the UK. I am now retired in Australia
Stories (16/0)
Sunflower
Even behind the protective mask, Joanna Richardson could feel the fierce heat as she pulled the ladle from the furnace and poured the viscous liquid into the molds. She was trying to get perfect yellow color in her stained-glass creation. Even as the liquid cooled, she could see that it was going to be a winner. This was her fourth attempt. She had tried very hard with different settings on the furnace and different concentrations of cadmium sulfide. Now she could see that the pigment hadn’t completely mixed with the glass and the yellow shade varied slightly across the plate. That was perfect.
By Christopher Seymour12 months ago in Fiction
The Four Little Pigs
Once upon a time, a long time ago, when animals could speak English and learnt Latin at school, there lived a family of pigs. There was Mr. Pig, who was big and gruff and was a pilot on Flying Pig Airlines. There was Mrs. Pig, who was very beautiful and who spent a lot of time making sure that her tail was curled in exactly the right way. And then there were the four little pigs. There was Percy Pig, who was very brave and very good at algebra. There was Perivale pig, who was very good at Latin and knew all about gerunds but was a bit of a scaredy cat. There was Peter Pig, who read a lot of books, and then there was Penelope Pig, who the cleverest of them all, because she was a girl.
By Christopher Seymourabout a year ago in Families
Better than Sex
“This is better than sex” shouted Andy Erickson excitedly. His two companions looked at him dubiously. The three were standing at one end of the longwall at the Colleen Coal Mine. The noise was tremendous and made it hard to hear. The face conveyer was spewing coal at more than 3,000 tons per hour onto the panel conveyer. “Let’s go to the crib room and talk,” shouted Pete Rawcliffe.
By Christopher Seymourabout a year ago in Fiction
Conferences
“How do you like this one” said Florencia as she flounced out of the changing room. “Mmm, I think it’s a bit too showy” said her husband, Dave Watkins. “You need to look elegant at this conference, remember”. Florencia sighed as they made their way back to the clothes racks. Dave picked out a mauve silk blouse and a matching long dark skirt. “That’s so conservative,” said Florencia. “Try it on,” said Dave. “OK – but I want to try this is well” said Florencia picking out a flimsy figure-hugging silk dress in vivid colors.
By Christopher Seymourabout a year ago in Confessions
The Mystery of 'Oumuamua
Professor Loeb Unidentified Flying Objects, Aliens, Space Invaders, and suchlike apparitions are typically the domain of either science fiction or crackpots. Indeed, the sceptics frequently point to the fact that astronomers never report UFOs. After all astronomers have an ongoing professional interest in the sky. Some spend most of their careers examining images of the sky. If anyone was seeing flying saucers, it should be astronomers. But astronomers are familiar with the sky and know what they are looking at. Invariably they can find mundane explanations for the hyperbolic assertions of excitable amateurs. It’s always explained by the planet Venus, a meteorite, a satellite, ball lightening, or some other entirely natural phenomena.
By Christopher Seymour2 years ago in Futurism
The Farm
Ted Watkins looked at the paddock alongside the Susquehanna River with satisfaction. He had a fine herd of sheep, the pasture looked perfect, and the ewes were all pregnant. He had worked hard over the past ten years improving the herd, weeding out the poor performers. He had kept careful records of the lineage of each sheep, and careful records of how fast the lambs had grown. He knew he could count on reliable growth to bring the lambs to market within four months of birth.
By Christopher Seymour2 years ago in Fiction