Kevin Meade
Stories (6/0)
Trees and Skeletons
May sat in her chair and stared aimlessly out the window as she often does. There was no good reason to, but there was no good reason to look anywhere else, either. Despite being noon, it was dark outside. It was dreary, and it was probably cold, though she has not been out in weeks. Packages were stacked in front of the door; some of them were groceries she never intended to eat. Days like today reminded her of what happened— they reminded her of the occurrence no one else saw, heard, or felt. They reminded her of how absolutely alone she was even with the barn owl that stared back through the window after dusk. Those were the only eyes hers had met since before she last opened the front door. But they meant nothing. That owl too had nothing better to look at, at least until it was ready to kill again. Another day etched in the bark— another skeleton beneath the branches.
By Kevin Meade2 years ago in Fiction
Bodies of Water
Adam trudged through the remaining distance of the snow-draped field that lead to the pond he had seen more times than he could count. It was frozen over like it always was this time of the year, and it served no purpose to the deer or the hungry wolves like it usually did. For a short time after it froze over, you could still see fish swim below the ice. Deep into the harsh winters, however, you could never. His pants were torn and bloodied, and some of his fingertips protruded through his gloves. He could not feel them, but he could see them. They were dirty, and their fingernails were different lengths. He stopped, slouched, and breathed heavily. A voluminous vapor cloud formed and lingered around his head before it dissipated upward. The air was still. The grass that remained and managed to crest the snow remained in place. He looked to the pond and beyond, because beyond it was his home, and while he would make it to the pond, he would never make it home.
By Kevin Meade3 years ago in Humans
The Green and I
Slumped against a wall, she was bathed in the garish green light that apathetically wandered through the vehicle-sized hole in the ceiling of the station. Her helmet’s soft blue digital interface with vibrant red warning flashes reflected off her pale face. The orange glow of fire leaped and licked at her singed suit. She was sweating profusely, and panic was setting in, but she was not hurt. Let’s take a mental tally here… The helmet holds software that functions as her suit’s diagnostic suite and allows for remote access to the station’s central computer. The warnings indicated no damage to her suit environment, but there were catastrophic breaches to the station that resulted in complete destabilization of the internal environment of this lab pod and the storage and personal quarters. The water facilities pod was not communicating which suggests a correctable network issue. Fortunately, the main pod, kitchen, and greenhouse were unaffected by the disaster. I can work with that.
By Kevin Meade3 years ago in Fiction
These Bulls are Men
There was a terrified yell as he and his mount crested the mountaintop. Below them was not the opposite side of the rocky mound, but a sheer cliffside that fell seemingly into nothing. They separated as they plummeted uncontrollably. His arms remained outstretched toward the bull as it acted indifferent toward him. Loudly and pathetically, it continuously rotated and struggled. He looked down and still could see nothing that would catch them. Guiding his descent, he slowly reached one of the bull’s horns. As he grabbed it, the bull bucked and knocked loose his grip. He then noticed the cliffside was no longer visible. In every direction there was only a deep violet. His bull had vanished.
By Kevin Meade3 years ago in Humans
Golden Opportunity
After relocating one thousand miles and two years of being isolated from those they loved, they have a home. Fifteen chickens and a weak hive of bees sit outside. She told him that marigolds are good for chickens to eat—that they help make their yolks a deeper yellow. Desperate to aid the bees, he agreed to purchase marigolds from a local garden center. They found the fullest plants and brought them home.
By Kevin Meade3 years ago in Fiction