Tuesday’s Tale, 3/7/2017.


So when I said next week, I should have said ‘next week, unless I’m dead’. It takes me awhile to crawl out of the grave known as my sickbed. For the record, I’m sorry, and we will see what I can do to make amends. But for now, this week and this five minutes are up.

The drone crested the rise, only one of two of its turbofan engines working, the other trailing black smoke. The homemade shrapnel bomb payload the drone had looked to be in perfect working order.

If that thing went off anywhere within ten feet of him he was dead, and there was no cover for him from that angle of attack. He took a shot at the drone but missed when its engine sputtered and almost died.

What neither side had factored on was that he had allies.

The little rocks or coconuts or whatever they were being rained on the drone didn’t really seem like much, but when one hit the turbofan exhaust and got itself shredded the final engine gave up all pretense of life and the drone spiraled out of control, overshooting him and blowing itself up further down the rise.

He looked up and had little trouble spotting the insects, his visor zooming in on them helpfully.

There was no time to worry about it; he repositioned and kept shooting.

And that’s it for this week! I’ll try to get back to consistency in posting, as well as think of an apology for all the weeks I’ve missed. See you next week with luck!


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