Category Archives: Sulfurings

Garbage

by Guy & Tonya De Marco

garbage by guy & tonya de marco from Sulfurings: Tales from Sodom & GomorrahMr. Gray uploaded a new orbital script into the E-DEN’s main navigation computer and the forward retros fired in a complex pattern of bursts to place the ship into a stable orbit.

“Tell me again why we’re not just dumping our cargo into the local star’s corona,” said Mr. Silver. “It’s just sulfur, and it’s worthless on any planetary system.”

Mr. Gray turned his one electronic eye to his mechanical friend. “We’ve been paired for most of our mean time between failure lifetimes. Have I ever let you down before?”

“Yes. There was that time on Vega-2, where you posed as a pimp and tried to rent me as a pleasure-bot.”

“Besides that!” said Mr. Gray as he unlocked his wheels and rolled over to the projection table. “You never let anything go. Almost like we’re married.” He fiddled with the knobs on the table for a few minutes.

Mr. Silver looked at the forward window. “What planet are we orbiting?”

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The Mortician of Sodom

by C.J. Beacham

the mortician of sodom by C.J. Beacham from Sulfurings: Tales from Sodom & Gomorrah“See you on the other side,” Teodor said. “And remember to breathe.”

I grimaced and sat down to catch my breath. After the explosions this morning, I never expected to see another side of anywhere.

#

I woke this morning when the mountain groaned. It had rumbled twice in recent memory, but no stories from the past eight generations mentioned eruption. When the ground shook today, however, windows rattled until one smashed. My eyes popped open. I rose from the lambskin, peered through the crack between the door and frame. Other eyes peered from doorways across the dusty road. Distant explosions and shrill voices echoed from the mountains, and I sensed the odd glow growing towards the cities of the plain.

Finish reading the rest of this story in Sulfurings: Tales from Sodom & Gomorrah, or download the book at:

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In the Distance, a Clap of Thunder

by David Anderson

a clap of thunder by david anderson from Sulfurings: Tales from Sodom & GomorrahThe rock smashed against Rodger’s face with a sickening smack as the mob continued to hurl stones at him, and the Chenku Class Vessel Captain lurched forward, almost passing out from pain as a dirt clod burst on his back, obviously being mistaken for a rock by one of the villagers. A soldier of Gomorrah stepped forward, picking the captain up by the arm and dragging him away to the quarters of the head city guard. The implant in Rodger’s inner ear automatically translated any speech to English, allowing him to understand the words of his captors.

“From what province or land do you come, stranger?” said a large tan man in a robe and armored sandals. He aimed the point of a sword at Rodger’s head, indicating that he wanted a response. Unfortunately, the translator didn’t work both ways, and he didn’t know how to talk back to them, a problem that was usually avoided by not talking to the locals on these types of expeditions. It was always observance-only on these safaris, as mandated by legislation back home. Nothing that could potentially alter the timeline was allowed.

“Perhaps you wish to suffer the same fate as your friend?” the head guard asked as he repeated his inquiries. Rodger wanted to answer, but he couldn’t. He spoke in English to the man, but it only confused matters.

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Idbash

by Melchior Zimmermann

idbash my melchior zimmermann from Sulfurings: Tales from Sodom & GomorrahIt had been a moon ago that Idbash had last set eyes upon the great city-state of Sodom. Every month, he would come to the market to sell his wares and buy what he might need from the other merchants. If life on the plains was hard, the soil was fertile and trade with the city-states allowed even a humble farmer like himself to make a living.

Idbash had never found much joy in the rites of Sodom. But he knew that wherever he went to sell his crops, he would need to bow to the customs of his customers. And even if the people of Sodom might have stranger customs than the shepherds of the mountains, they also paid a better price for his wares.

He was setting up his stand once more, in the same spot as the other times, exchanging idle barter with the neighboring merchants, when he heard a loud rumble coming from above. The sky had been a clear blue when he had set out that morning, but during the day, dark clouds had gathered. Afraid a storm was brewing, he glanced up.

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Ruins of Gomorrah

by Nicholas Paschall

Sulfurings e-book anthologyI open my eyes slowly, ignoring the muck that has half submerged my body in the sinking mire that was once our great city. I claw my way free, ignoring the torn scraps of skin peeling off of my body as I scrabble up the foundation of an old tavern I used to frequent; now I live in the rubble like some utter street trash.

That’s what we are now: street trash and monsters.

Stooped low behind a section of wall, I shuffle to a table that I’ve set up as a small shrine, muttering a small prayer as my day begins. Perhaps I’ll find food today?

I hear a scream in the distance, as well as the crumbling of another building. That sounds promising, I think.

Turning, I scoop up the sword I’d scavenged and lope onto the street, avoiding the craters of still-broiling sulfur that made this city an inferno. I jog around the impact craters, past others like me as they awaken to the sounds of the screams. If I move fast enough, I’ll be the first to get there.

Nobody comes to our fair city anymore. Well, nobody sane, that is. Heretics and worshippers of the devil flock here, seeing it as a holy site for their profane rituals and horrid rites. I still have faith—I have faith that God will save us. He will let us leave the still-burning ruins of our city. For some reason, any and all who called Gomorrah home can’t leave this place. We start to choke and suffocate as the cool air of the open plains meets us. It’s as if we’ve become accustomed to the darkness that now envelops this land, and we are cursed by God for its sins.

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Abel

by Melchior Zimmermann

Sulfurings e-book anthologyAbel was breathing in great gasps, a ragged sound coming from his throat. The sulfurous air scorched his lungs. He coughed up congealed blood, dark red drops clinging to his parched lips. Yellow smoke billowed around the heap of rubble that had once been his home. He looked around frantically, searching for a sign of his family.

A broken doll, squashed between rocks. A broken table, its wooden remains still smoldering. A white piece of fabric that had once belonged to his mother’s dress. Nothing was moving. The only sound he could hear was the slow crackling of the burning furniture.

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And the Child Shall Lead

by Rie Sheridan Rose

Sulfurings e-book anthologyThe night before the sky fell, Rebecca pleaded with Malachi not to leave the house. He didn’t listen. He never listened.

His friends were going to Lot’s home—there were new men in town that the Sodomites wanted to “welcome” to the neighborhood. She knew what that meant. She hated it. Why couldn’t the men of Sodom stay home with their families? If it was just for the sex … she was willing to learn if it would keep him home.

When the wailing started outside the earthen walls of the little two room house, she felt her way to the door. Blindness was a burden she accepted as the Lord’s will. The portal opened to a warm, humid night. She stepped out onto the street, one hand on the lintel of the door.

“Malachi!” she called anxiously. “Malachi, where are you?” Her heart pounded in her chest. The screaming and crying were coming closer. She could make out dozens of individual voices in the mayhem. Was Malachi’s one of them? She wasn’t sure.

Finish reading the rest of this story in Sulfurings: Tales from Sodom & Gomorrah.

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