This month’s theme:
Pixabay Dreams

Pixabay is a great repository of free-to-use images of all types. Some people post images of such bizarre natures that truly challenge your logic circuits. (There are also a disproportionate number of images involving women in various states of undress, which probably suggests more about the ages of the artists playing with the software.) But strange and weird is perfect fodder for science fiction. This month, I’ve chosen a half-dozen strange and weird images and offer short-shorts that are my interpretation of what’s going on.

To find images to use, and to contribute them, visit www.pixabay.com.

 

“Needing an Arm”
Science Fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

The sleek car stopped on the barren wasteland, and an attractive gynoid got out. Keenie could tell she was a gynoid because she was missing an arm, and her metal socket was visible. She wore very little, in red vinyl: bikini top, short shorts, and boots. She had short blond hair.

“That your car?” the gynoid asked.

Keenie sat atop a pair of old crates next to what was left of a very old car that had clearly been abandoned years before—and stripped clean since. “No, just taking a break. I’ve been on my feet for days.”

“I need a new arm,” said the gynoid. “I’m not human, you know.”

As if to demonstrate, she reached up with one hand and removed her head. She held it out for Keenie to see.

“Yeah, I got that,” Keenie said. “I can’t help you. No spare arms. I’m human.”

“I thought you might have one in that car.”

Keenie sighed. “You’re malfunctioning. That car has been rusting away here for years.”

The gynoid looked frustrated. “The world is dying. I can make enough money from humans by catering to their disgusting perversions, but I have to pass as human.” She popped her head back on. “See, I’m quite beautiful. But without an arm, they might not pay.”

“I don’t think you need to worry. They’ll pay if you had no limbs at all.”

“I can’t take the chance. I need money to buy power cells.”

Keenie laughed. “There aren’t many power cells left, lady. Just like there’s no food. Why do you think there are seagulls so far from the ocean? Almost no fish left. They’re just circling in case I die. They’ve become sea vultures.”

Indeed, a small flock orbited above them as the gynoid paced the barren rock, frustrated. “I just need an arm. Maybe there’s one in those boxes you’re sitting on. I’ll trade you my car for those boxes.”

Keenie lit up. The car was sweet, but… she couldn’t do that, not even to a gynoid. “I doubt there’s an arm in these boxes. They have warnings on them. Probably nothing good inside.”

The gynoid’s face darkened, and she moved toward Keenie. “Get off those boxes. You aren’t hiding arms from me.”

Keenie hopped off and moved away. “You’re seriously malfunctioning.”

The gynoid hurried to the boxes and ripped the lid off the top one. It was empty, so she tried the next one. Same result.

“I need an arm,” she said, sounding panicked. “Need power cells.”

She took off running, past the wrecked car and across the rocky plain, as fast as a car. Keenie watched, a bit sad, as she ran. The gynoid ran at high speed for a good five minutes before Keenie saw her collapse on the horizon, her power cells drained.

Keenie got in the car and it roared to life. The poor gynoid was dead, but she’d be good for parts. They’d sell well. And the car would fetch a good price.

The gynoid had been right: the men would pay for their perversions. And if gynoids weren’t available… Keenie shuddered. She’d make enough money to postpone having to do such things.

She drove off across the apocalypse.

“Giant Women Invade Earth”
Science Fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

“Attention, people of Earth!” the aliens broadcast on every frequency worldwide. Of course, they already had the full attention of the people of Earth.

“We phased in our planet in orbit beyond your moon,” the aliens said, “and we have placed our skyships above a thousand of your cities. And as you can see we have deployed our attack drones on the ground. We have carefully placed these 700-foot-tall drones so that their gigantic feet are not harming any humans or structures. But we can crush your entire civilization in mere minutes!”

Humans ran scared all over the planet. Militaries flew aircraft and launched missiles at the drones, which looked like giant women, but their primitive weapons had no effect.

“We claim this planet in the name of the King of the Planet Arkzaxia,” the aliens continued. “If you surrender peacefully, we will take no further action. But if you do not, our drones will all do the one thing that we know will render you helpless. We could crush you, but first we’ll torture you.”

The militaries still launched weapons and dropped bombs on the giant women. They were scantily clad giant women.

“We’re not kidding!” the aliens said. “We’ll give you a taste of the horrors you’ll suffer… right now!”

All around the world, the giant women lifted their skimpy shirts and bared their humongous triple-Omega breasts.

“Hah, humans!” the aliens taunted. “We have studied you, and we know that we don’t need to stomp on your cities. We have learned of the power of the human female breasts—and how their very public exposure will lead to mass hysteria and runaway moral panic!”

The giant women recovered their breasts. The military attacks had stopped everywhere.

“Defy us further,” the aliens said, “and the breasts come back out! Continue to defy us, and they’ll remove more clothing. It will be the immoral end to your civilization!”

*   *   *

The alien Supreme Commander congratulated his officers on the non-violent invasion.

“Many humans are pleased to see our drones do this,” one said. “How were you so sure they would cave as a species?”

“Very simple,” said the Supreme Commander. “Too many humans cannot handle something as benign as bare breasts. And, fortunately for us, such backward, ultra-conservative morons seem to be in charge of most of the planet.”

 

“Escaping the Sphere”
Science Fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

Jayda was ready when the bombs began to shatter the sphere’s equatorial control band like it was glass. Finally free, she burst through the opening on her motorcycle, and as she fell she fired the thrusters against gravity. Her fall slowed, burning through her fuel but landing her safely, although roughly, on the ground below.

She rolled on the throttle and looked over her shoulder at the gleaming sphere floating in the sky. The explosions had ripped it open all the way around its equator, where the top half was designed to raise from the bottom half—but which they had sealed for the next two decades. She could see that the sphere was sinking to the ground. The explosions had been contained, all fires put out, but they were dealing with an emergency.

She stopped the bike and looked back. If all went well, no one had died.

“Jayda,” came a voice on the bike’s communicator. “You didn’t have to do that.”

She grimaced and hit the button. “Yes, I did. You wouldn’t let me go.”

“It’s safer here. The surface is a mess and will be for twenty years.”

“Because of you and your technology!”

“The rest of us don’t need to suffer. We’ll be months repairing this damage and getting back to altitude.”

“Then you shouldn’t have kidnapped me and held me prisoner.”

“It was for your own good.”

“THIS is for my own good!”

“What—riding a motorcycle?!”

“No,” Jayda said through gritted teeth. “Being free. Making my own choices. Good luck.”

She revved the bike up as the sphere behind her got its antigravs in shape before it hit the ground. It lifted about a hundred feet up and remained there, damaged but all right. Soon, they’d fix everything and, like every other sphere, rise high into the sky to wait while Earth repaired itself and became comfortable again.

Jayda smiled and rocketed away from it. There would be more spheres in her travels, but she had a feeling that the alert would be put out to leave her alone.

Up ahead, she saw another bike. They both veered toward each other and soon met up. He was as happy to see her as she was to see him.

“The sphere was your doing?” he asked.

“All they had to do was let me go. They chose not to.”

He smiled and reached out to pat her arm. “They’re scared. We’re not. There are many of us. We’ll fix the damage they did to Earth. By the time they come out of their spheres, we’ll have rebuilt civilization—and keep them from ruining it again.”

He revved his bike to life and took off. She followed, her smile wider than she had ever thought possible.

 

“Ship in a Bottle”
Science Fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

The captain stood on the deck, surveying the bizarre scene.

“We’re in a bottle,” he said. “A bottle in a desert. And there are sharks in the water.”

“Aye, that’s about right, captain,” said the first mate. “We were on rough seas at midnight, with all hands on deck, and the lightning struck. Magic lightning, methinks, for it rendered us all unconscious. When we woke this morn, here we were.”

The captain stood at the starboard rail, looking down at the water in the giant bottle. The sharks swam madly about, hoping for some dinner. There didn’t seem to be any other food besides his crew.

“Blast that damn cork out of there,” the captain ordered.

“Love to, captain, but we have no wind. We can’t turn her sidewise.”

The captain swore. “Whatever black arts are at work, they’ll not get this ship. Blast the bottle wide open, then.”

This they tried, with full guns ablaze. But the iron cannonballs bounced off with loud TINKs and THUNKs and sunk beneath the water. The sharks investigated them but quickly returned to watch for any humans who might fall in.

The captain swore some more. Outside the bottle, a flock of gulls flapped around, as if trying to figure a way in.

“We’ll figure this out, men,” the captain said. “We just have to think.”

*   *   *

In his quarters, the captain marched to his desk and picked up his own ship in a bottle. He’d spent countless hours building it, then sliding it into the bottle and pulling the string to raise the sails and lock them into place. He’d proudly displayed it on his desk for years. Now, the thing disgusted him. He grabbed it up and hurled it across the room, and it shattered on the floor.

He sat and tried to think of what to do. He had to come up with an idea, or the men might lose confidence in him. They might choose to oust him in favor of… in favor of…

His first mate. What was his name? He couldn’t come up with it.

Come to think of it, he couldn’t come up with the names of any of his crew.

Then again, he realized that he didn’t know his own name.

*   *   *

“Great job,” Jimmy’s father said.

“Thanks, dad,” Jimmy said, beaming.

On Jimmy’s shelf was his creation: a glass bottle, stuck askew in a sandbox, with a tiny ship floating inside. Two goldfish swam around beneath it.

“I pretend they’re sharks,” Jimmy said.

“It seems almost real,” his father said.

 

“Singularity”
Science Fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

The singularity was bigger than ever in the sky, appearing nearly four times the width of the Moon, even though Mella knew it was still two million miles ahead of Earth’s orbit. She checked her wandwings, made sure they were secure. They looked skeletal, like they were supposed to have skin stretched over them as a bat did. But the spokes were magic wands enchanted with spells, ready to be launched at a moment’s notice.

“Mella? Are you ready?”

She heard Kiv’s voice over her comlink, and she replied, “Just about.”

“Thank science for magic,” Kiv said.

“Thank magic for that damn singularity.”

“If we didn’t have magic, Earth would get swallowed up by that thing.”

“It still might. And if we caused the thing with magic in the first place…”

“Okay, I know. Circular argument. Hey, we’re lucky that not everyone can craft spells like me, or use magic like you—and that there are a few of us who are responsible about it.”

“Yeah, but there are too many who aren’t like us. Too many crafters like you and users like me who are in it for selfish reasons. But it’s a good thing there are some of us interested in destroying that thing before it destroys us.”

The singularity had appeared almost a year before, behind Earth in its orbit. Scientists had ascertained that it was an extradimensional portal of some sort—who knew to where—and that it was fixed in place, somehow held by the Sun’s gravity. Earth would meet back up with it in a year and pass through. It was likely that that would prove disastrous.

She checked her harness once more. “Okay, Kiv, I’m ready. Let’s hope this works.”

“Good luck, Mella.”

She mentally called on the magic spell stored in her suit and she took off, flying like a superhero into the sky. No one else had figure out the right magic to do this. She only hoped that they had.

Mella called on another spell to protect her from the cold and vacuum of space, and soon she rocketed out of the atmosphere and into the void. She looked back at Earth, receding over her shoulder, and then at the Moon to her right as she roared past at magical speeds. She prepped the myriad spells stored in the many spokes of her wandwings. They’d readied these spells for two months. They had to work.

“Kiv, if we caused this, we deserve what we get,” she said.

There was dead silence—because she was so far from Earth that it took several seconds for her transmission to reach Earth, and for Kiv’s to get to her.

“Lot of innocent people here who didn’t cause it.”

She said no more. The singularity loomed before her like a negative star. There was no heat, no sensation. She got to within a thousand miles of it and willed her spell to stop her momentum. She floated in space before the awesome thing.

Now or never. She launched the dozens of collaborative spells that would work together to dispel the dimensional portal, and shimmering silver energy exploded before her in silent brilliance.

When it cleared, the singularity was still there.

“No,” she whispered.

No effect. Two months of planning, and they’d been so sure that it would work. Her sensor magic told her it was indeed dimensional and magical in nature, but she hadn’t even nudged it. Time for Plan B. The wandwing spokes were strong with explosive power, and now she had to fly into the singularity and blow it up the old-fashioned way, with old-fashioned science. She willed herself forward, and within seconds she was within feet of its event horizon.

Up this close, the thing was like a mirror; she could see herself reflected in it, her caramel skin, her spellsuit, and her wandwings glowing with blue luminescence—the glow of the magic that protected her from space, kept her alive, and let her work spells. She reached out, and her reflection did the same, until her fingers touched the surface. Her hand passed through the silvery shimmer, and she felt nothing deadly.

“I’m going in, Kiv,” she said. “I love you. More than anything.”

Faintly, in her ear, amidst static, she heard Kiv: “I love you too, baby.”

She was surrounded by flickering silver energies—but just as she was about to detonate and kill herself as well as the singularity, she emerged on the other side. She spun about and saw the familiar shimmer of the massive portal. She’d passed harmlessly through it.

She radioed Kiv. “I think it’s safe for Earth to go through. I just did.”

“Yeah, but you’re loaded with protection spells.”

Her resolve was strong. “I’m coming home.”

“Hey, baby, I’m happy you’re still with us, but… you’d better be sure about this.”

*   *   *

She stood outside with Kiv, arm in arm, as the singularity loomed so large that it spanned all horizons. She felt him squeezing her tightly, and then the Earth passed into the portal at sixty-six thousand miles per hour. Like the rest of the planet, Mella and Kiv were bathed in the raw dimensional energies for a split second before the world passed through. It took several minutes for the entire planet to complete its passage, and Kiv and Mella watched the news reports on their smartphones, until the news cameras showed the singularity growing smaller in the sky as the Earth raced away from it. Now, the silvery sheen of the singularity seemed brighter, stronger, more excited—as if it had increased in power when the planet had moved through it.

“What the hell is it about?” Kiv said.

“I think we created it,” Mella said. “Our use of magic—the dimensional energies that we call magic—spawned this. And we made it stronger when we passed through it.

“What does it mean?” Kiv said.

“I’m not sure. But we need to research and learn more.” She smiled, leaned in, and kissed him. “Like all good science, too many have abused it. Someone has to focus on responsibility.”

He grinned. “Great power, and all that?”

“You know it. So get working, spellcrafter, and I’ll practice using magic. We’ll be ready to learn more next year.”

 

“A New Twist on Things”
Science Fiction
By David M. Fitzpatrick

Deep Space Station THX-1138, which was shaped like a ring, drifted through a nebula.

“I think I’d like to redecorate,” Commander Doug Sibley said.

“Sir?” Lieutenant Commander Jack White asked.

“The station. It’s so utilitarian.” Sibley waved his hand around. “It’s a big, boring doughnut floating through space. The interior isn’t very imaginative, either. Maybe we knock out some walls, put some fresh paint up here and there, hang some plants.”

White looked at him, wide eyed and dumbfounded. Sibley kept a straight face as long as he could, but he finally burst out laughing.

“I’m just kidding, Jack. But you have to admit, the place is boring.”

An alert went off just then. On the command center’s viewscreeen, an image of a sparkling ball of light was approaching.

“What’s that disturbance ahead?” Sibley asked his Sensor Control staff.

“Some kind of extradimensional manifestation, Commander. I’ve never seen anything like it! And it’s moving right at us. I think it’s drawn to our antimatter power core.”

On the screen, it was a sparkling globe, like a disco ball, spinning madly, with glittery lines arcing out of it like solar prominences in fast forward.

Sibley grimaced. “This is why space stations should have engines. All right, use our shields, and ready all repulsor beams. We’ll try to divert it.”

The repulsor beams lanced out and the silver ball ate them up like a hungry beast. It closed on them fast.

“No effect, Commander,” came the terse report.

“It’s seven times our diameter,” came another.

“I’m getting confusing readings,” said his science head. “It’s an dimensional mess in there, sir. Measuring… perhaps thirty dimensions. Mixing, crossing… like dimensional spaghetti.”

“It’s going to hit us!” cried someone.

Sibley braced himself as the ball hit and passed through the ring-shaped station. The world seemed to turn inside out. Light seemed to bend in bizarre directions. The floors tilted and twisted. The commander felt his body pass through dimensions it wasn’t designed for, but he didn’t die.

Just as quickly as that, it was over. Everything seemed normal.

“All normal, sir!” White snapped.

“Entity is moving away.”

“Report, all decks!” Sibley barked.

In moments, all departments had checked in. Everything was normal. No injuries, no damage.

Sibley ordered a probe sent out to check for exterior damage. When the first picture came back, everyone in the control center sucked in their breaths. There, on the big screen, was the station—but it wasn’t a ring. It was twisted like a pretzel, in and around itself.

“What the hell happened?” Sibley asked.

“The dimensional entity warped our dimensions as it passed through us,” the science head replied. “But when it passed through, it didn’t leave us as we were. To use, we’re in a ring, because the dimensions were mixed up. But outside, we’re a big bowtie. Technically, a torus knot.”

White stepped up to Sibley and shrugged.

“You wanted to redecorate,” he said. “You wanted something less boring. Hard to top this.”

 

David M. Fitzpatrick is a fiction writer in Maine, USA. His many short stories have appeared in print magazines and anthologies around the world. He writes for a newspaper, writes fiction, edits anthologies, and teaches creative writing. Visit him at www.fitz42.net/writer to learn more.