Humdrum Places - BlogFlock

Smash Burgers - foofaraw

2026-09-10T16:00:52.000Z

He bellowed so loudly in frustration that he swore he felt his rage shake the earth. The braver souls in the vicinity recoiled from the sheer force of the sound, while those less courageous fled outright. He knew it was likely in his own worst interest, and would ultimately make his evening even more difficult, but it couldn’t be helped. He was tired. And hungry. And a little worse for wear.

His fingers were bloodied up to the knuckles, the result of a recent trip to the local watering hole that went horribly awry. He stumbled out at early dusk looking for a drink and something to fill that ever-expanding hole in his stomach, which had made its presence known a few hours ago with its tiny rumblings. Those rumblings grew into a ferocious roar, almost as mighty as the one he had let loose on the unsuspecting passersby. He wanted⁠—no, needed⁠—something substantial to fill his gut, preferably some red meat, though at this point he’d stoop so low as to eat even… fish.

At this time of evening, he’d usually find his favorite spot vacant. Instead, it was as crowded as he’d ever seen it, with barely any space to squeeze in along the bar for a drink. Just his luck. Big, dumb, fleshy bodies grunting and bumping into each other. Even from a distance, he could discern the glaze over their eyes. Peabrains! Why did they have to be here? Why now? The last thing he wanted to deal with was an oafish herd of slobbering half-wits. Their smell alone threatened to stagger him even at a distance. But eventually, he took one more breath of fresh air and made his grand entrance. And as soon as he did, all eyes were upon him.

Some parents glared at him with suspicion as he walked by, taking extra care to pull their children in closely. It was a shame, really. He liked kids; preferred them, even. They were so small and clumsy and slow. Despite the inconvenience, he couldn’t blame the parents for their protective instincts. He’d probably do the same if he had a little one of his own, but he was a bachelor whether he liked it or not, and a bachelor’s sole duty is to procure food.

The patrons, unfortunately, had a different idea. They didn’t like his type around here, and they made that crystal clear by bruising him up and sending him on his way. The dumb brutes. One on one, he had no problem holding himself in a fight, but he was smart enough to know that numbers meant strength, and in that regard, he was at an obvious disadvantage. Not to mention some of his aggressors were truly massive and peered down at him as though they were tall trees swaying stiffly in the wind.

If only the powers that be had blessed him with a little more girth in his arms, he could have handled them and certainly would have shown them a thing or two. But he was scrawny in that area, remarkably so. It was an unlucky deficiency of his bloodline. Well, it could be worse, he thought. At least I still have my killer jawline, which he was able to put to good use by clamping down tightly on one unlucky fellow who had dared to slam into him at just the right angle. He sent the poor bastard running with a big gash on the base of the neck. One to remember me by, he thought.

He could taste blood on the points of his teeth, but he couldn’t tell if it was his own⁠—from the blunt force head trauma he had received⁠—or if it belonged to the unlucky member of the mob. In either case, it reminded him of both his hunger and his anger. He thought again how nice it would be to finally find some damn sustenance. To finally chomp into some meat before laying down for a good night’s rest. But now, it was too late. Dusk had fully yielded to the star-filled twilight, and, as though by instinct, he found himself on his path home.

Despite the pain that coursed through his body, the nighttime stroll was refreshingly tranquil. The soft, wet grass squished under his feet and each step he took splashed water up to cool his ankles, tickling him as the droplets ran down between his toes. A warm breeze rustled the fronds of the surrounding trees. The sound fell into harmony with the drone of cicadas, making it seem as though the air were singing. No more bumbling morons; no more judgmental looks. Just peace and the right sort of quiet.

It was an uncharacteristically bright evening. He had pretty sharp eyes when measured up to his peers, but tonight he could see almost twice as far as he usually could. It took him a few moments to discern it, but the source of the brightness was a gentle orange glow radiating off the dew-covered foliage. It added a pleasant aura to the evening’s atmosphere, which did wonders to improve his mood.

He took a moment to marvel at the beauty resting on the branches all around him. It was something he had never seen the likes of in his 23 years on Earth. Soon he became lost in a trance, but was shaken from it when he noticed something in the corner of his eye: a luminous dot that turned black and slowly faded whenever he looked away. Little ghost dots. He knew them. He saw them sometimes when he would look into a pool of deep water and the sun would shine back at him through the glassy mirror. But he also knew that the night was when the sun slept, just like he did.

Glancing upward, he noticed a tiny flickering speck in the sky. For a moment he thought it was a star, just like all the others. Sometimes the stars were bright, sometimes dull, sometimes they flew, but mostly they stood still, content to watch him from above. But he could feel this one was different. Perhaps more bold, perhaps more friendly? Something in its bombastic, shameless shine instilled within him a sense of excitement, urgency, and… what was it? He couldn’t quite say, but let the thought pass through him as he stood dumbfounded⁠—awestruck⁠—staring at this unexpected visitor and wondering what other gifts the night might offer him in recompense for his empty gut.

Perhaps it was a minute, perhaps five, or even more. He didn’t know. He looked down to count the numbers on his fingers, but only got to four before he had to give up. Regardless, it was obvious to his keen eyes that his friend had now grown in size. Much, much larger in fact. Alarmingly large.

Ah! Now he remembered: the feeling he couldn’t quite name. It was an uncommon one, at least for him. Typically, he would instill it in others.

Fear. The feeling was fear.

No sooner did he recall his lost memories that he felt a gentle warmth upon his skin. He looked behind him and saw that the entire length of his body possessed the faint radiance the trees had worn as their shroud mere minutes ago. The trees themselves were brighter now, almost blinding in their beauty. And that beauty shook the earth. No, it wasn’t beauty…

Terror. Terror shook the earth as those who had earlier assaulted him now stampeded in fear, senseless and frothing at the sight of the big shining intruder from above. He recalled for a moment his own triumphant, rageful roar and felt a sudden sense of camaraderie with this terrifying traveler. That’s right, run you cowards. Not so tough now, are you?

He wouldn’t run. He would stand tall with his new partner, his bellowing brother from the stars, and together they would drive away all those who dare oppose their might. Once more⁠—and for the final time⁠—he looked up. His earthbound friend had now grown to a size that even humbled him. The heat had grown as well. What was before a comfortable warmth had transitioned into a burning. And it was loud. Why is it so loud? My friend, what’s all this racket!? There’s no need to shout! Or, if you must shout, let us at least shout together! There’s plenty here for the both of us! Let us reign together and bring some order to this broken land! Come with me, and we’ll show that graceless horde what they should really be afraid of!

And the shining friend from the sky, through an act of mercy, did indeed attend him and finally⁠—finally⁠—put an end to the ceaseless chattering of his stomach. A thunderous shockwave tore through the ground, rendering all other sounds impotent. It was a showing of power unlike any he had ever witnessed, and with it came a brightness that burned his retinas and a heat that erased his ability to feel. In solidarity, he let forth one final shout: one loud enough to rattle his bones, loud enough to match his falling friend’s spectacular performance. Its echo housed an unmistakable sense of pride. It was a glorious proclamation that he was the tyrant king of the land, and that all others should tremble in his wake.

The final thoughts that flashed through his head before he was reduced to ash were of his glowing, helpful friend, and of his growling stomach. Oh, how he wished he could have had one last meal. One more chance to sink his teeth into his favorite dish. It had been his favorite since he was little, when his father had introduced it to him on their first trip out alone together. It was the prize that he had set out at daylight in search of; the one he had spent the entire day hunting for in vain. To him, there was nothing in the world that could compare. Oh, how he wished he could have it: just one more taste of Triceratops, rare.

Alexander V. Koval resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. His writing has been described by friends and peers as 'beautiful horror' and 'dark but with a gentle rhythm.' When he is not writing, he enjoys building gravestones dedicated to his favorite authors, befriending crows, and making eldritch noises on his drum kit.

The hidden dangers of Musk’s votesafe.org - The Independent Variable

2026-09-10T01:54:45.000Z

But Elon Musk, the world’s richest person, is funding an aggressive advertising campaign encouraging people in key states to check their registration status at a different website, votesafe.org. That website is run by America PAC, Musk’s super PAC.

This feels like something that shouldn't be allowed, but then I thought back to when I used Vote Save America and they don't direct me to the state site either, but rather use BallotReady. BallotReady sure does appear to be more reputable, but who knows what they do with the data they receive...

The iPhone Duo shows Apple at its best - The Independent Variable

2026-09-10T01:42:29.000Z

It's an extra flourish that's not necessary by any means, and I can understand why someone would wonder why I think this is any better than what Samsung is doing, but it's the sort of extra flourish that elevates the experience. Now that I've seen it, it makes what I was used to feel old.

I feel like it's been awhile since Apple seemed to care about the details. Albeit, it seems a lot of the decisions they've been making over the past couple years were aimed and tailored for this exact moment—which we had to suffer through to get to this point. I still don't plan on getting a Duo... but maybe next year.

Selected Calendar Times for Someone Self-Employed Who Works from Home - The Independent Variable

2026-09-09T16:46:10.000Z

Meeting w/ Self-Loathing and Narcissism departments/tendencies to brainstorm exciting new potential collabs

Someone must’ve hacked my calendar because this is word for word how I spend every single day. Not sure how people who work from home and don’t have a boss stay productive and/or how they prevent themselves from staring into space for an hour.

Channel 5 Gave Hunter Biden a List of Its Subscribers’ Emails for Some Reason - The Independent Variable

2026-09-09T04:48:10.000Z

Channel 5, the YouTube channel hosted by Andrew Callaghan, said it gave a list of its email subscribers to Hunter Biden, the former president’s son, who went on to promote his new memecoin, a move that a data privacy expert told 404 Media is likely illegal in some jurisdictions.

Callaghan and Channel 5 have surprisingly done some good reporting and interesting interviews—much to my surprise—and I was starting to respect it, but this is just dumb. And I was also enjoying the spicy takes from Hunter Biden and then to turn around and launch a memecoin? What are we doing people?!

You Can See Everything /// Teaser - The Independent Variable

2026-09-09T04:06:17.000Z

Nathan Fielder and Elizabeth Holmes—two names I never imagined would ever be uttered in the same sentence, but at the same time… could there possibly be a better pairing for a bonkers documentary.

Artificial /// Teaser Trailer - The Independent Variable

2026-09-09T03:54:09.000Z

Looks absolutely wild. Given they struggled to find distribution, I tend to think the trailer is likely to be quite deceiving, but whoever cut the trailer definitely did their job.

Meat proxy - The Independent Variable

2026-09-09T01:30:55.000Z

A person who forwards AI-generated text, code, or other output without reading, understanding, or validating it. The person acts only as a relay between the AI system and the intended recipient.

A little late on this one as it’s travelled across the interwebs and back already, but I felt like it needed to be preserved here as well.

South Park Shares a Cheeky, Trump-Inspired Name Change Ahead of Season 29 - The Independent Variable

2026-09-09T00:52:52.000Z

“Inspired by the bravery and patriotism of Apple and Google, we are changing the name of ‘South Park’ to ‘South America,’” Parker and Stone said in a statement. “We especially want to thank our parent company Paramount — a Skydance Capitulation.”

South America is some Grade-A marketing, which is no surprise from these guys. I know they’ve always pushed boundaries, but I absolutely love that they’ve ratcheted things up over the last few years.

Sources page - The Independent Variable

2026-09-09T00:13:15.000Z

Been working on some small refinements around here despite the fact it has been a ghost town for the last month or so as we pushed out a couple print books at Foofaraw.

Colors, interactions, and more have been updated along with the linked Sources page that shows a grid of all the places we've linked to.

I have a few more ideas I still want to get to, but I'll save those until I'm actually a bit more active around these parts.

What the Dinosaurs Tell Their Children About the Earth’s Destruction - foofaraw

2026-09-08T16:00:48.000Z

A Bedtime Story

The beginning of the end starts when an infant Saurolophus squishes some nameless prehistoric fish, and for the first time, a dinosaur cries.

Worse, the crying turns the Saurolophus into a Kaiju, and each time a Triceratops blinks the Saurolophus is larger, and larger, and larger, until the Pterodactyls circle him like a mountain.

And of course, the infant Saurolophus is still crying, because a Saurolophus should never be so big, and his tears are so heavy, they drown half the world.

And of course, after losing half the world, the Kaiju Saurolophus throws a tantrum. (And of course, dear dinosaur children, that’s the true story about the asteroids, because if the universe were just slinging asteroids, dinosaurs would have gone to space, because of course they were smart enough to go to space.)

And yes, yes, we could spend all night debating how long the tantrum of a Kaiju-Saurolophus took to destroy most of the world, but let’s just say seven days and seven nights (because toddlers never rest, right?)

Anyway, we’ll skip those extra scary pages, but after all that ending-of-the-world tantrumming, the Kaiju-Saurolophus grows so large they try to swallow the sun like a gumball. (Hence the burning, of course, and the ash). But the sun is the sun, and it doesn’t die so easily, and the bigger-than-the-whole-world Kaiju-Saurolophus throws it back up in the universe’s version of a sky.

And so dear children, the earth’s dinosaurs died. But after so many millennia, we’ve returned. Bigger. Brighter. And definitely prepared if anyone starts crying.

Emily Garland is an ace-spec poet who writes from a small yellow house under an enormous Canadian sky. Often described as too literary for speculative fiction, and too speculative for literary, she's finally given up the need to conform. Also, she's always hunting down the next best chocolate chip cookie.

🎉 Weekend Edition Vol.101 - foofaraw

2026-09-05T15:28:33.000Z

Hello again! The end of August and beginning of September has been quite busy for us here at Foofaraw HQ. Our Best of Strange Fiction anthology for 2025 is now officially out in the world and available everywhere books are sold online; we launched our special guest-edited and themed September issue (and have a bunch of Dino related items to publish this month); and let but certainly not least, we launched our trading cards. We will be selling random booster packs soon, but for folks who want a specific card can tip authors to receive a physical card in the mail now!

the fOOfARAW tcg

one house, one limited, every story

🦖 Something has gone terribly wrong

Megan Diedericks

The Foofs (2025)

Best of Strange Fiction anthology

The Week That Was

Stories

Never Quit Your Post

Aeryn Rudel

While I love all my children equally, this story is a special one. It's short, sweet, wonderfully written, and exceptionally foofaraw.

Barflies in the Wild

Kari Redmond

Then going back home to Chicago, a delightful little nature documentary about the cities watering holes. Who's ready for an Old Style and a shot of Malort???

Small Creatures Among Great Beasts

Jaime Gill

And then our first dino themed story, curtesy of Jaime Gill to get this special month of September started for us.

Poems

Colin Has His Demons

John Paul Davies

John starts us off with a personal poem about three demons that I'm not sure I'm supposed to have this much fun with.

The Three-Eyed Cat

Kira Lyonet Collins

Speaking of threes, we have this delightful poem from Kira.

Please Note, the Dinosaurs have Returned

Emily Garland

A delightfully weird dino themed poem kicked off the month and we have one more from Emily coming soon as well!

Essays

Before We Congratulate This Lady Author

Nat Hrvatin

Nat stopped by last month to ensure we hold our applause for women writers.

Cartoons

Mouse Wiggle

Ellie Black

A delightful little cartoon from Ellie that anyone who has worked remote can relate to.

Dino Nuggets

Zack Rhodes

And a throwback from Zack for our delicious dinosaurs.

Interviews

Aeryn Rudel

An interview with the author of Never Quit Your Post

Jaime Gill

an interview with the author of Small Creatures Among Great Beasts

MORE DINOSAURS!!!

The Back Page

Gimme by Typearture - The Independent Variable

2026-09-04T19:05:22.000Z

futurefonts.com

Gimme is the kid in class who has everything, from the latest toy as seen on TV to a tricked out BMX bike. It's the only person you knew with the complete Playmobil Mansion or USS Flagg. This time however, it can be you! Gimme is a dazzling ever-growing type family of multi-chromatic and variable display typefaces which will leave you saying: gimme more! And you are in luck, because updates will deliver on that! Inspired by a box full of toys, more type families will be added as we go along, expanding them further and adding new features. And the more allowance, the more it will grow!

There is a strong possibility this is the wildest and craziest font that has ever existed. It's truly an incredible work of art that is beyond my wildest imagination.

Dave Eggers told OpenAI staff that ChatGPT was ‘silencing an entire generation’ - The Independent Variable

2026-09-04T18:37:39.000Z

theverge.com

You absolutely love to see it.

AMC Films to Distribute Indie Movies and Bring More Small Films to Theaters - The Independent Variable

2026-09-04T18:37:17.000Z

worldofreel.com

What makes this especially interesting is the focus on small- and mid-budget movies across all genres rather than chasing blockbuster tentpoles. With the pandemic and 2023’s SAG strike contributing to a thinner theatrical pipeline, AMC could help get more movies, which would otherwise remain orphaned, in front of audiences.

This is so cool. There are always so many small films that just feel impossible to actually watch. I don't have an AMC that close to me, so I hope they follow through and distribute to other chains as well. Just dedicate one screen to indie movies and put a new one on every week. It'd be glorious.

I Should Be Allowed to Cold-Call My Friends - The Independent Variable

2026-09-04T18:34:42.000Z

thecut.com via publicannouncement.org

No no no. Never. Well not never. If you actually have something we need to discuss, I'm all for it. Don't call me to just say "what's new? how are you?" etc. I'm not here to be your entertainment.

NBA Crushes Clippers After Kawhi Leonard Investigation - The Independent Variable

2026-09-04T18:33:02.000Z

defector.com

The NBA has concluded its investigation of the Los Angeles Clippers and Kawhi Leonard, and the punishments are major. The league announced Wednesday that the independent probe, conducted by the law firm Wachtell, Lipton, Rosen & Katz, uncovered “a pattern of misconduct and multiple significant rules violations by the Clippers organization, a prior offender of…

Thank god. The league needs to do a better job punishing folks who blatantly break the rules. It's been the Wild West for too long as a big reason why 90% of the league jogs up and down the court and doesn't care during the regular season, but is happy to cash their $60 million + salaries.

Future? No Thanks! Thinks The Revolution Is Possible, But Also Pretty Funny - The Independent Variable

2026-09-04T18:27:55.000Z

aftermath.site

The game is confident enough in its leftist politics to not take them so seriously, while also asking real questions about how we build the future together

This game looks like a ton of fun and is even available for Mac!

Jaime Gill - foofaraw

2026-09-04T16:00:43.000Z

Read Small Creatures Among Great Beasts now!

Were you a big dinosaur kid growing up?

I was a dinosaur maniac from about two years old: I guzzled picture books about them. Tricaretops were my favourite and still are: I mean, three horns and a built-in shield⁠—that’s evolutionary perfection. My family encouraged me in my obsession and then regretted it. When I was about three, we lived in a small cottage in an ex-mining village rural in Northumberland, with stone walls which were a “feature” as real estates say. One morning my Mum woke up to find I’d got up two hours early and made a lovely surprise for her: I’d created a vast dinosaur panorama with crayons. There were triceratops, trees, T-Rexes and many lava-spewing volcanoes. My Mum wasn’t nearly as delighted as I’d hoped⁠—it’s murder getting crayon out of stone.

Dinosaurs, sharks, trucks, or trains?

No, I’m not giving up dinosaurs, sharks, or trains. You can melt down all trucks if you like, but the other three are - for different reasons - some of my favourite things in the world and I won’t let you take them from me.

Do you think you’d be able to survive if dinosaurs still roamed the earth?

I have a terrible attention span so I’m pretty sure I’d see something shiny, wander in its direction and get snatched from the sky by a pterodactyl. By age two, probably. I wouldn’t even be able to delight my cavewoman mother with a cave painting.

If Jurassic Park were real, would you visit?

It would be very hard to stop me, but I wouldn’t be there on the first day. I’d probably wait for a few tourist groups to go, return uneaten, then book my ticket. I do have a healthy respect for deadly animals. I’m a diver and I love sharks, but I keep my distance.

Were there any other stories on your mind when you were writing this or coming up with the various names?

Not really, as far as I can remember. In fact, although you’ve learnt I was a dinosaur geek, I had no plans of writing about them. But I was challenged to write an alternative history and I thought this was just about as alternative as I could plausibly go and it was an exciting challenge. One thing that always strikes me about nature is that it’s beautiful and horrifying. Most creatures live in a state of near constant dread over potential predator attack. It looks like pure hell being a rabbit or fish, constantly twitching and darting away from threats. Humans are incredibly lucky to have freed themselves from most of the dangers of nature “red in tooth and claw,” as good old Tennyson put it. I wanted to write a story where the predators were simply too powerful for us to overcome.

So the meteor misses, 66 millions years pass… what does the world look like in 2026?

Well, actually, in my head this story IS in 2026. Dinosaurs are so huge and destructive that men are never able to build lasting settlements and achieve societies. Humans stay trapped in this brutal reality, just like most other species. I’m sure an anthropologist could tell me why I’m wrong about this, but I like it as a thought experiment. I don’t think advanced civilisations were inevitable.

How many times has this story been rejected by other markets?

Twice, I think. It’s such an unusual story that I haven’t sent it out to many because I couldn’t imagine it fitting in everywhere. Then a friend sent me your call for stories on this theme and I did a happy dance, because I thought it would work for you. And I’m thrilled it has!

What’s a great short story you’ve read recently?

I adore The Gaijin Juan Quezato by Michael Barbato-Dunn. Full disclosure: I’m in a writing group with him so I got to read it before publication, but it stole my heart in the first paragraph: “I do not want to go to Winter Ball with the gaijin Juan Quezada. I know him to be a carouser, a malcontent, a fornicator. Worst of all, he is not serious about baseball.” It’s a road trip/ odd couple/ baseball story, none of which interest me in the slightest, but the two characters are so vivid and beautifully drawn that I was besotted with them and their voyage of self-discovery. Do yourself a favour and read it here: https://thetwinbill.com/the-gaijin-juan-quezada/

What book are you reading right now?

I’m re-reading Martin Amis’ “Time’s Arrow”. It’s a story told in reverse time (not just non-chronological - time actually moves backwards and the laws of the universe are inverted) which dazzled me 25 years ago. I recently wrote a short story inspired by his technique, and found it gruelling at 300 words, so have been reading his novel again and feeling awed by what Amis achieved. It has one of the most extraordinary sequences in literature, the real purpose of the whole reverse time trick. Amis is always a great entertainer as a writer but this is where he gained immortality.

You wouldn’t ask that question if you knew me. I am an enthusiast by nature and constantly haranguing people. I’ll rattle off a few recommendations. Backrooms is one of the best horror movies I’ve seen in years and I’d urge everyone to go and watch it. They should also believe the hype about Widow’s Bay, which is virtuosically written and genuinely terrifying and hilarious, a rare combination indeed. And read my story about a lonely kid in eighties Britain and his unlikely feline friend, The Wild Ones. It just won the Columbia Journal Prose Prize and I’ll be sharing it very soon in my newsletter - www.jaimegill.substack.com. Where I share many many other things. If you’re still reading there’s a chance you’ll enjoy it and its totally free and non-spammy.

Thanks to Jaime for chatting Dinos!

Small Creatures Among Great Beasts - foofaraw

2026-09-03T16:00:53.000Z

66 Million Years BC: the Chicxulub meteor misses Earth. It does not trigger a climate-destabilising dust cloud, and the extremity of subsequent ice ages is therefore blunted. The era’s megafauna migrate, survive and evolve, while new animals⁠—such as primates⁠—emerge.

Last moon I was declared a man. Tonight is my first hunt. To leave The Settlement led by FearNothing, to protect my BrotherMen and SisterMen⁠—I’ve longed for such honour. My heart bump-bump-bumps.

No moon or cloud above. On these nights we can almost believe we own this world. We don’t creep or cower, we walk tall.

Prickling stars sprinkle just enough light for we four hunters to find our way. GreatBeasts roam the night, but rarely. If they come we feel their thundering approach through our bare feet and burrow or cloak ourselves, glad to be small.

KindHeart holds a hand up⁠—we stop. His thinspear lashes and he holds aloft a scorpion wriggle-wriggling against the stars. I hide my sadness for the small things we kill. They remind me of us.

We do not hunt by day. Sunlight belongs to the TwoLegs and, worse, WingedBeasts. Once a shadow falls across you, it’s too late. Cruel claws snatch you into the sky.

That’s how father met his foreversleep. Before we built The Settlement, before walls and roofs.

I look back, taking comfort from the red glow of home far behind. The FireWalls came to SheWhoSeesTomorrow in a dream. Other men had tried to build settlements in the long-ago. They also wanted to live unafraid, outside the caves, to build something better. Like us they made walls of mud, stone, and tree, but all were smashed by GreatBeasts. Only our Firewalls and SpearTowers keep GreatBeasts back.

We enter the rocky ridges now. FearNothing drops to all fours, and we follow his lead. We creep slow-slow, testing each handhold. To grab loose rock and make noise would mean foreversleep for all. FearNothing points to a black mouth in the rock. A cave, like that I was born in.

FearNothing reaches the crest and looks down. He beckons for me. My heart fills with such happiness it almost squeezes the fear out.

Four TwoLegs sleep in a valley between ridges. Lying down, they are not fearsome. Their tiny forearms are funny and their sleep-breaths whistle loud enough that FearNothing whispers.

“Don’t fear, Fastfoot. Today, you see only. Do not do, only learn.”

I am sad but also relieved.

From the ridge, I watch my three BrotherMen creep towards the sleeping beasts. Something flaps and screams above⁠—I stifle a cry. Only a NightBird. I must toughen my heart like my BrotherMen.

When they stop, I know they’ve found eggs. A thinspear rises, then down, and with a soft crick-crack a shell is pierced. For a moment I can’t breathe, terrified a TwoLegs will wake.

My BrotherMen work carefully. I watch and learn. TwoLegs lay few eggs. SheWhoSeesTomorrow says this scarcity is our opportunity. If we kill them all before birth, one day we’ll live free of them.

Then I see it. A sleek shape prowling the opposite ridge, smaller than a TwoLegs but bigger than my BrotherMen. A StripedKiller, orange fur visible even in lowlight. It moves slowly-slowly towards my BrotherMen. They are too busy egg-killing and watching the TwoLegs to see.

Bump-bump bump-bump bump-bump.

As taught, I whistle like a NightBird. One BrotherMan rises and looks my way. I wave a hand towards the creeping StripedKiller. He turns and sees.

The still night explodes.

My BrotherMan hisses words at the others but the StripedKiller sprints for my BrotherMen. Its snarling wakes the TwoLegs. Their tails thrash and the land shakes.

My BrotherMen run towards me⁠—fearful white eyes in starlight. KindHeart loses his footing and the StripedKiller is upon him, but two vast jaws snap across its muscular back. We scramble away from the StripedKiller’s yowling agony and the screech-screech of the TwoLegs.

I reach the cave first, throwing myself inside. Two BrotherMen follow, but the cave is narrow. I wriggle-wriggle back to make room and see QuickThought’s dark shape against the stars⁠— then a vast head blots the sky and we hear QuickThought’s bones crunching and his bubbling screams and then nothing.

The TwoLegs sniffs at us, pokes its great snout towards us, but we wriggle-wriggle backwards. We retreat into our smallness for a long time, my heart bump-bump bump-bumping. Finally the TwoLegs leaves and I see the stars again, but faint. The sky is bluing. Day.

“We stay until night,” FearNothing says. Those are the only words spoken. QuickThought would have said something funny, but without him nothing is funny.

The sun floods the steppes with brutal light. I creep to the cavemouth and see The Settlement’s smoke in the distance, calming me. We are all tired-tired and, somehow, sleep.

I wake from dreams of smashed bones, torn flesh, pouring blood. Briefly, I think I still dream⁠—I am wet. But it’s not blood. It’s water, trickling.

I scramble to the cavemouth⁠—the skies are black-streaked.

The hard rains have come, a whole moon early. SheWhoSeesTomorrow did not see this.

Three TwoLegs are already halfway across the plain, approaching The Settlement. I hear a screech above, see the black shadow of a WingedBeast.

My BrotherMen and SisterMen must already know their doom, as soon as the fires hissed out in the rain. There are not enough fighting men, The Settlement is too new. Itt needs all of us, especially FearNothing. Without us, they won’t be enough to hold back the TwoLegs with greatspears, while the others escape into the caves.

I see it all in the eye inside my mind. TwoLegs smashing down our flimsy walls, WingedBeasts smelling spilled blood and swooping down past the SpearTowers. Destruction, death, screaming, the end of all.

SheWhoSeesTomorrow is a fool and so are we for believing there could ever be freedom for small creatures like us. Here, cowering in caves, this is where we belong. This is where we will always belong.

Jaime Gill is a British former music journalist, now working for nonprofits across Southeast Asia. He writes, reads, runs, boxes, and occasionally socialises. His stories have appeared in Missouri Review, The Forge, Sun Magazine, Trampset, Fractured, Pithead Chapel, and others. He’s won multiple awards, including a 2024 Bridport Prize and the 2025 Luminaire Prose Award, and been a finalist for the Tennessee Williams Prize and Bath Short Story Award. He’s a three-time Pushcart nominee. No pets or children, but he’s keeping a few houseplants alive, just about. He’s writing a novel, screenplay, and more short stories. Website—www.jaimegill.com. Newsletter—www.jaimegill.substack.com