Caitlin Archives

October 4, 2007

Sealyon: Zombie Love

How can I be hungry? Aren't I dead?

It's been this way for weeks. His memory fades and returns; all he knows is that he's hungry and dead. Sometimes his mind is briefly awake: he thinks, Where's my family? My wife?

Mercifully, he doesn't remember eating her.

Dimly, he sees people run from him. Once, there was gunfire.

I'm so hungry.

Now he walks with another woman, not his wife; she doesn't run away. They meet a man in the road, wrestle him to the ground, open his skull; their eyes meet over his warm brains.

Finally, someone who understands.

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October 30, 2007

Sealyon: Trick, or...

May I help…oh, it’s not Halloween yet, now is it? But aren’t you cute, both of you! Did your mommy make your costumes? Yes? Well, they’re just darling! Oh, I mean scary, yes, quite scary. That’s why it took me so long to open the door -- I was terrified of your… fangs, yes, that’s what those are. And you, young miss, and your very sharp claws. Quite frightening! Of course you may have some candy, wait right there -- I haven’t opened the bags yet… ow! My, those claws are realistic! Oh! – and the fangs too, wait… oh! But, I hav…

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November 7, 2007

Sealyon: The Flying Dutchman

It’s only a legend, I tell myself, sitting in this strange bulkhead, listening to the engines whine and the whispers…

A legend. Nothing more.

The ship appeared out of nowhere on the vid display, huge and broken. We responded to their distress signal on every known channel, desperate to avoid collision, but couldn’t make contact. She approached in slow motion and then - impact.

When I regained consciousness, I was here. How’s she flying with all this damage? I can’t locate any crew, mine or theirs, but I can hear someone, whispering. What does Kunt u mijn alstublieft helpen mean?

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January 16, 2008

Sealyon: What If

After I got the letter, I folded it, put it in a drawer, and tried to forget. I didn’t even tell Mom and Pop for three weeks. I had a new baby, no job, and now… I couldn’t think about what might be happening to him, let alone contemplate his death.

After six months, the baby and I moved home. The war ended; no news. Even our congressman got nowhere. I met Charles three years after the letter came. He’s good to us, but it’s not the same.

* * *

One thing about the jungle: your feet never dry.

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January 17, 2008

Sealyon: M-I-C...

In retrospect, I should've known; I mean, I've seen the movie, I had the record… wasn't there even a kid's book? But who believes that stuff anymore? Magic hats. Wands. This is 2008. I thought the whole "Sorcerer" title was just some quaint eccentricity.

I admit, I was a little ticked to be left with chores: I'm not a kid. But when you want to climb the company ladder, you do what you're told. Still, I couldn't resist tweaking his nose, poking fun at the "Sorcerer."

You can guess what happened. Yep, brooms and water, everywhere. And I got fired.

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January 31, 2008

Sealyon: A Bad Day at the Office

She had scratched the wall with her fingernail 99 times; once for each day that she was trapped.

Had it really been 100 days? Her mind was numb with the thought: 100 days, stolen, forever.

The marks on the wall didn't lie: 100 days.

At the beginning, she'd told herself that 100 days was the limit: after that - escape. She knew about the electric fence, the dogs, the armed guards. She knew others died trying. But she was sneakier and had no feeling for the guard she killed.

Act like you know what you're doing… And she was free.

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February 1, 2008

Sealyon: Norman, Is That You?

It had been a long time since he'd had anyone at the house, let alone a girl. He nervously straightened the living room. He peered out the curtains repeatedly. Finally, a car pulled up.

"She's here!" he called into the dining room. He tripped over himself getting to the door.

"Um, hi. You're here!" he smiled shyly.

"Hi!" She smiled big. "Cute place you've got here."

"Thanks. My mom's the decorator. Hey, why don't you meet her before we leave?"


As they walked into the dining room, the smell hit her.

"Wha…? How long has she been like that?"

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February 5, 2008

Sealyon: Hail to the...

Indeed, it was the last thing anybody expected.

In a rare showing of solidarity, both Republicans and Democrats demanded a recount. They got it. They weren't happy. They demanded another; when it yielded the same results, they sued.

Oblivious to all of this, he stretched, rolled over, and looked at the ceiling. His Vice President scratched his tummy while the Secretary of State left to get celebratory rawhide chews. Everyone patted his head and told him he was a good dog. Eventually, President Rex went outside and began the task of marking the White House grounds.

Change had finally come.

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February 11, 2008

Sealyon: Sure You Won't Have Some?

His thoughts get smaller every day, distilled to only the essential:


He no longer knows why he follows the blonde woman: he can't even form the concept of "blonde woman," no longer understands the line between death, life, and undeath. He is almost nothing more than base instinct. Meat is meat.

So hungry.

The blonde woman leaves a trail of meat, mostly others like him, but sometimes there are freshly dead delicacies, their blood still warm and pulsing.

Gun shots. Another body. He falls on it. Somewhere in his limited consciousness, he vaguely wonders why she never joins him.

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February 29, 2008

Sealyon: Smart-Ass Universe

I had no idea how long I'd been walking. It felt like months. I don't know what happened to my companions. But I was going to be the first person to tell the world what was at the end.

Hot, covered in grime and scratches, I finally saw where the ribbon of colors met the ground. My excitement gave me new energy: I ran the last hundred yards. Was there really a pot of gold there? Money? A leprechaun? A unicorn? Whatever it was, I was about to be the most famous, the richest person on Earth.

A stormcloud. Shit.

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