Boris swaggered into the church and crawled up the wall at the back of the hall. Now let’s see what these suckers are up to. He nursed his stump. The new hand was already pushing its way into existence—like a shark’s tooth; it merely replaced the one bitten off.Read more "Lost World of the Wends (44)"
We struck a deal, I’d wash and they’d wipe. Fair enough. Sort of. They reasoned that I’d have to clean up my mess of chocolate cake. No mention of Dad’s Indonesian Rice splatters. But then, who was I to complain?Read more "Storm in a Chicken Coop"
‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’
Friedrich gasped. His hands gripped the stones on the wall. Slowly, he twisted his head.
He saw a glow, but it wasn’t the ray of light he was hoping for. It was Boris’ hand—his ray-gun hand.