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Submitted to Contest #277
The Hum.I wanna talk to you about ‘The Hum’ and a conversation that happened that made me realize I lost it. You might not be following right away with this whole ‘hum’ business, and I wish I could explain it in a single word what that noise was, but by the end, you’ll know what I mean. Let me talk to you about Peter. Peter. Peter’s got the hum. Peter’s a New England white guy with a big beard and heavy eyelids that makes him look high—and he acted it too. Not that he smoked; he just wasn't cold to the world, wasn't warm to it, jus...
Submitted to Contest #275
Mr. Johnson Cutter, his face covered in a black bag with holes cut into it, asked her awkwardly if she was comfortable with the ropes where they were. “I suppose so,” she said flatly. Little towns popped up regularly along the paths the great migration west took as America came to fruition. People’s manifest destinies stopped driving them on, or they had too many people die of the droop during travel, or they ran out of supplies and money and time and love for adventure, or maybe they just got plumb tired, so they decided to...
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