Science Fiction Microstory Contest discussion
Congratulations to Thaddeus Howze, Six-time Champion of the Science Fiction Microstory Contest
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While I have been helping my wife through the change in services, the numerous necessary surgeries (which we hope will give my wife new chances for a kidney transplant) my daughter returned home because her fiancé passed away due to the coronavirus.
In the same breath, I have had a variety of writing opportunities which presented themselves and with my less than ideal working circumstances (until the first of April) I took every chance to write and be seen. I wrote a section of a roleplaying game supplement and it was recently published!
In April, I have started a new job as a writer for a video game company. I am being tasked with creating stories for a superheroic IP for which my comic and pop-culture related writing (ironically, things I was not paid for...) which led to this particular opportunity.
I admit to letting my health get away from me by being overwhelmed and I have been working very hard to get back on track, mentally, emotionally and physically. I came back to this august company because I wanted to get back to creating something which I could say was NOT related to work, or belonging to someone else (which is great to have but is ultimately NOT my own).
This generous company has given me confidence in my work and an arena where I can appreciate the stellar work of other writers who are not truly in competition but in cooperation and celebration of our gifts.
I am grateful for the last decade of creativity because it kept me working, focused and nimble enough to handle the changes necessary to be a writer in our modern world.
I am confident every writer in this group knows a secret language of the Universe, just waiting to be expressed.
Thank you for keeping me writing and believing in what I once thought was impossible.
Ad Astra!

When Death Came to Town
Thaddeus Howze
When Death came to town, you could hear him coming miles away if the wind was right. The valley was always filled with some kind of sound. The hot buzz of mosquitoes seeking slower, more immobile prey in the heat of a summer morning. Since The End, it was always hot now, even in the mornings.
Dorthea rolled out of her bomb shelter, waking her MOTHER and getting her little brother dressed to get mountain runoff, one of the morning chores which could never be missed.
As they reached the spring, a breeze picked up, something cool in the relentless heat of summer. The ever present swarms of gnats fell from the skies, and the screams of the damned stopped; one after another. Death was here.
Dorthea and her brother, Ramir, grabbed their water and began a quick pace back home. They hoped to see Death as he passed their house. They knew he would. Their father was pollen-sick, face slick with sweat all the time. He stopped screaming days ago.
The children saw Death coming down the road. An automaton, casket-shaped on spindly but powerful legs. It carried a spade which it told the children never got dull, and how it could bury five people an hour.
They waved and ran toward him. His black owl swooped over their heads and its eyes flashed as it flew by and returned to Death. "Hello, little ones." Death reached into his casket and pulled forth two lozenges. "Sit with me." As he sat down, the air around them began to hum and in a few moments, they knew they could take off their masks to consume the sweet treats. The air was cool and dry inside of his death-field.
The owl stared with baleful eyes at the children, lights flashing in its wide eyes, speaking occasionally. "Inoculation complete." Said the owl in a bemused tone. "Far too little, too late."
"Hush, Palantir. We do what we can, where we can. You know I am here for your father, yes?" The children nodded sadly. "Has the MOTHER automaton been working out?" Death's voice evinced concerned.
"Yes. She prepares food and keeps our home clean and secure," Dorthea explained.
"But she is not as good as Mom was in the hugs department. Too many hard corners," Ramir added.
Death chuckled, "I would like you to join me. You are old enough to begin training to become Harbingers and you will not have to hide in a containment suit. You will be free to move around, inoculated against the floral contagion."
"What would we be doing?" Ramir asked.
"You would be helping people like I do," Death replied. "We have a means now to help children against the Blight, if we can get it to them in time. I need help. You'll have your own owls to support you."
Dorthea didn't seem as happy as Death thought she would. "We haven't been out of the valley since I was little."
"You can't stay here. The valley is overrun now and even though you will be able to survive infection, most of what you eat here will not. Listen. What do you hear?"
Dorthea closed her eyes. "Nothing. We thought that was because you were here."
"Not this time. Put your masks inside my bag. You won't need them, but maybe some children we meet along the way might. Let's go say goodbye to your father." Dorthea and Ramir dropped their masks into Death's bag as he pulled out small armbands for them. "This will let people know you work for me and they will welcome you."
Ramir puffed out his chest and grabbed his sister's hand for the long march home.
"Wait a moment." Death reached into the bag and pulled out a new pair of shoes for each. They were the most comfortable shoes the children had ever owned. The omnipresent whine of his portable factory spun down and became quiet again as the death field dropped away. The oppressive heat returned but without a mask, it was more bearable. The clockwork owl took wing, spiraling skyward over Death's head as he took the children to see their father, one last time. In the distance, a cloud of yellow pollen covered the far end of the valley, as the sunblossoms, claimed another former stronghold.
Saddened, Death stared out over the valley. For the first time, in a long time, there was something to look forward to. Their children would inherit the Earth.