M.J. Weisen
Stories (16/0)
From the outside
The humming of my uHomey 13e fades as it follows its vacuuming path out of the living room. Soon, the flat white disk that houses my robot’s brain will detach from the vacuuming base, hover up to the oven-like uHomey KitchenHub and rest in its dock, where it will begin to prepare one of its ninety preloaded meals. I sit and smell the chicken-flavored uHomey InstaMeal cook as I watch the news project holographic replays of local riots on the other side of the city.
By M.J. Weisenabout a year ago in Fiction
Outlast
Tor, you survive all Magnitude beyond mortals How can you bear it?
By M.J. Weisenabout a year ago in Poets
Monolith
Above our chaos A snowy monolith stands Stone of timelessness
By M.J. Weisenabout a year ago in Poets
Wasn't Supposed to Be
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Frogs chirped in the sweltering summer night as Jude tried to piece together what she saw. The flame looked more like a freestanding dog tongue than actual fire; long and thick and cardiac crimson. It was still and solemn and stagnant – like a bloody smear on the dust-encrusted window. The fire didn't waver like normal flames. No wind in there, she supposed. No air. No life.
By M.J. Weisen2 years ago in Fiction
Of Kin and Cloud
Your mother and I sat in plastic, neon green chairs in the empty preschool room as your speech therapist shuffled through chart-filled printouts. A rainbow of plastic beads hung from her neck, matching her tap-tap-tapping fingernails. She sighed, and looked up at us, throwing on a bright smile.
By M.J. Weisen2 years ago in Fiction
Mayday Country
They had two kids, two dogs, two cats, and had outgrown the city. Home was now Granite, about an hour and a half from proper downtown. In the early summer, they fell in love with a house older than their parents with a dozen acres of land that ran into an old pine tree farm. The house itself had a gray-blue brick exterior that reminded Sasha of the ocean waves before a storm, while it reminded Rupert of the color of his first car's faux-leather interior.
By M.J. Weisen3 years ago in Fiction
A Slice of Destiny
The ceiling of The Great Kitchen is so vast and so tall that large clouds swirl above and cut off the tops of the endless arraignment of marble pillars. Down on the floor, the stone floor rises and falls, making hills and valleys. Flowing streams of water, milk, broth, and wine flow on the carved and ancient terrain. Fields of wheat, orchards of fruit trees, deep caverns of salt, and more can be found throughout the realm, an endless supply of ingredients and resources.
By M.J. Weisen3 years ago in Fiction