Michael S Rosin
Bio
Sometimes I write stories. Sometimes I don't. We'll see which way the wind blows this month.
Stories (2/0)
Shattered
Jacob stood in the hallway with the telephone handset pressed hard against his ear, nodding his head slightly. The fingers of his left hand tapped against the slick surface of the table next to the receiver, making a semicircle of tiny circles in the dust.
By Michael S Rosin3 years ago in Fiction
Tin Foil Shells
As I think about today’s events, I’m reminded of when a rumor early on was spread that tin foil would repel the ‘nites. After the idea hit the mainstream, the conspiracy theorists, in their ephemeral vindication, strutted around in their hot glue-sealed foil suits. Later, the streets were littered with human shaped tin shells, complete with cake at the bottom. They were using carbon air filters, of course. Useless. You need silicone micro-mesh, if you can find it. Most of the factory chimney filters have been chopped up by now, the microscopic machines they had imprisoned having escaped long ago. Which is how we got to this point in the first place.
By Michael S Rosin3 years ago in Fiction