Building New Atlantis

Mike Grist Science Fiction, Stories 5 Comments

building new atlantis1by Michael John Grist
The first stage in the construction of New Atlantis went quietly, and the world scarcely noticed. It looked enough like a new ship or oil drilling platform on the satellite photos that no other nation would pay it too much mind.


Mike Grist Stories, Surreal 3 Comments

by Michael John Grist I cut open his brain because he needed help. “Help me,” he’d whispered, banging at my fly screen in the middle of the night, his wet shirtsleeves slapping against the cracked glass of my back porch slide door. “I need help.” So I’d let him in. Set him down. Listened to him talk. “There’s a waterfall,” he’d said, lying there in the dark kitchen slumped across my table. “I see it when I dream. And the dark creatures. There are dark creatures in the waterfall. Slithering in the cold, behind the falls.” “Oh?” I’d said, keeping …

Tawnymoor – a poem

Mike Grist Poems, Stories 1 Comment

by Michael John Grist. Make the feet for children’s shoes, Down the alley, back from hell, This whole town is made of iron Witnesses shall turn to steam Their Pockets filled with earth. • Grub the mantles, merrymen! Seize the steam and come to me, Here the zephyr rings on steel, the judge becomes a narwhal’s spike fill it with his blood. * Learn bankroll management and how to win slots at!

The Sphinx

Mike Grist Stories, Surreal 2 Comments

by Michael John Grist The Sphinx asked me its questions. I ignored the Sphinx. It had the head of a lion, and the body of a man and woman combined. “Where are you from?” it asked. “Why are you here?” The Sphinx touched me with its hips.  It edged closer to me. “Stroke my hair,” it said. “Then you may pass.” “I don’t want to pass,” I said. “All want to pass. Just touch my cheeks. Stroke my back.” “I don’t want to. I’m fine here.” “It’s the desert.” “It’s where I’m meant to be.” “Kiss my eyelids. Stroke the …

Pendolino Lane

Mike Grist Stories, Surreal 1 Comment

by Michael John Grist Despite Cray Upson’s best efforts, Milo Pendolino refused to sell him a home on Moresca hill. He always claimed the homes were already full, but Cray knew better, so he plotted out a plan. He knew Milo owed the bank thousands for his construction costs as well as the mortgage on the land itself. Plus he had no outside income. He only had the homes he’d built, way up there on Pendolino Lane with the simple gravel track running up the side of the hill, and they never sold. Pendolino’s follies, they called them down in …

The Squinching of Ricky Shay

Mike Grist Stories, Surreal 4 Comments

When the orders came down that all the gold was to be digested by the end of the day, Efren couldn’t believe his ears, despite their unusual and rather floppy size. “All the gold?” he asked his co-consumer Ricky Shay, the fattest stupidest pig in the sty. “I mean, that’s some heavy stuff right there.” Ricky Shay ignored him, mostly. Ricky Shay was stupid, and didn’t understand English. He could grunt, and he could eat gold, and when it bust out through his system, it was, yes, it was thoroughly what it should be. But he didn’t speak a lick …

Stick Man

Mike Grist Fantasy, Stories 5 Comments

Dray is slumped at the edge of his desk, doodling. It’s Saturday again. Another business studies class. 4 low level Japanese students talking about their companies in broken English. No matter what he does, it’s always boring. You’d think, you’re the teacher of a class, it’s going to be interesting. You’d think, you’re the teacher, you shouldn’t be the one falling asleep. But it happens. He spends longer every time, planning, brings in CDs, newspapers, games, but somehow it always comes down to this. Just, dull. Dray’s eyes creep shut. His classroom has always been too warm. The fan just …

The Disgusting Crow

Mike Grist Fantasy, Stories Leave a Comment

Tycho lay on top of his grassy hillock and waited for the disgusting crow to come for his eyes, feeling downright blue. His friends the tired old turtle and one-eared rabbit tried to pep him up, but it wasn’t taking. Banter was banter, but the disgusting crow was something else entirely. Every time he closed his jewelly eyes he saw its claws of brambly bone and its diamante beak. He remembered how it stank, and how much he hated it. “I really hate that disgusting crow,” he said sadly. “Maybe I should just let it take my eyes.” “It won’t …

Brand New Day

Mike Grist Stories, Surreal 3 Comments

TODAY She wakes up slow, opens her dull eyes expecting the new day to glow in, but no. It’s still night. She blinks, yawns into her pillow, stretches beneath the duvet. It’s the pig bedspread, the one her mother made. Her dozy palms bobble over the linen pigs stitched onto the cotton, sleep-weakened fingers catching in the felt swirls of their curly pink tails. She pulls one out gently, lets it tug back into place, and smiles. In the distance, muted by the thick velvet curtains swaddling her second floor window, there’s the sound of drunken students calling out on …