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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Feb, 2022
Weekly Contest #134
The men are dead. Strangled. In their sleep. Gods-be-damned if I know how to pilot a ship–not out here, in the vastness of the stars. I could do it en-atmos, where there are landmarks, but out here... blue hells, the stars all look the same. “What about that one there, sir,” Errol asked, pointing to a pinprick of light that looked like all the others in the velvet blackness of eternity. “What about it?” I didn’t look at him. My stomach, it already flipped and swam like a roiling pot of water, and the skin… the skin dangling from lieutenan...
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