In the distance a black spot soared high above the church.
“The harbinger of death is near,” the old man murmured as his head bounced and swayed in his wheel chair.
“Dad you are crazy,” she pushed on passed the church.
“Stop here. I’ll show you.”
She stopped, puzzled.
Shaking legs mustered their last bits of liver spotted grace as the old man stood.
Reaching into his pocket he produced a bit of bird seed scattering it.
A small swarm of black crows landed in front of them their beaks clicking against the pavement.
“See?” he said.
“Yes Dad. Some birds,” she huffed anxious to leave.
“No, Daughter. A murder,” his face cracked wide into a warm old man smile as she shook her head.
Danny Machal June 15th, 2015
Posted In: Sunday Photo Fiction
The full moon rises and here I sit alone, in this steel cage, playing this simple game.
Outside you would hard pressed to see passed my perfect crisp green lawn. Hanging colorful baskets of flowers on my front porch are quite inviting to the senses.
But once a month, the shades come down and steel bars fall from the ceilings. I descend the stairs to the basement for a monthly sleep over.
As I watch my hand turn to deadly paw and claw my last rational thought of the night as human springs forward.
‘Did I turn the dishwasher on?’
Danny Machal June 7th, 2015
Jonas concentrated on his lunch trying desperately to block out the noisy lunch room. He read that if you could just imagine yourself vibrating faster and faster, you could leave your body. You could travel -to the astral plane.
“Jonas, stop being an idiot,” an apple followed the voice and crashed into the middle of his soup spraying beef broth all over his clothes. He looked up. His concentration, broken.
He wanted to leave his body. This small, weak and ugly body.
Jonas was approached by a strange man last summer and a conversation ensued that changed his life forever. He learned that the ethereal plane was real and that many real world objects were tied to things beyond the veil if only one could steady the soul long enough to see.
He took the same route home from school every day passing two massive old ship anchors where he saw the stranger. There was no sign of the man all school year.
One such day the school bully cornered Jonas and knocked his head hard into the ground. Jonas lay there for a long time, long enough for the blood on his smiling lips to dry.
“You okay boy? What you smiling for?” the pastor from the local church knelt next to him. Jonas pointed a finger to the sky.
There, in the birth of twilight, the belly of a ghostly ship floated in the clouds tethered to the two old anchors. From the deck he could see the stranger, waving and smiling.
Danny Machal May 26th, 2015
Before you is the most trafficked interdimensional way station on Earth. It is also my home.
Thor is taking tea today.
“Asgard has nothing as wonderful as this Ms. Malovitz,” Thor finished his black English breakfast tea with a splash of milk and twelve sugars licking his lips. The small plastic faux porcelain cup bounced quietly as he spiked it down onto her soft tan carpet. He frowned. She winked at him.
“About time for you to head out isn’t it?” the frail white haired woman slowly made her way to the gate which doubled as her pantry. The white paint chipped door creaked as she opened it for him.
Thor’s hulking figure sunk her old linoleum with each step as he squeezed himself into the small cupboard like space smelling of old pickles and flour.
He smiled at her as the space around him began to glow blue, his body fading into the ether. A sudden fear became bright in his eyes as he looked toward her counter.
Ms. Malovitz nodded and picked up his hammer effortlessly tossing it into the bright blue space. The arm of Odin’s son shot out to catch it before he disappeared.
Danny Machal May 11th, 2015
Television screens froze baring a message, ‘Incoming message from the President.’
“In this world where God has lost, Science has won and the Alien invasion has given machines new breath,” the President paused causing a global stress test on the durability of couch cushion edges.
“On this Earth. Our Earth. We have reason to believe that new organic machines have successfully infiltrated our wildlife and even our populace. They watch you from the trees, they flutter in your herb garden and they teach your children in school,” a bead of sweat sprang from the small tuft of grey hair at his temple rolling down the aging cheek.
“They. Them. These… things,” he was looking around grasping for words now.
The frame jerked as the camera was knocked over. The live feed now piped images of the oval office carpet and polished black shoes stomping around in struggle. Gun shots rang off their targets like ancient iron church bells echoing in the frightened ears of millions.
All is quiet within a few seconds.
Tears rolled down the cheeks of confused children and the Veterans who knew what was coming.
Metal fingers clasped clacking around the camera’s lens squeezing. A terrified but unified Earth bathed in the bright snowing gray transmissional disconnect of war.
Danny Machal May 3rd, 2015