Lost

by Robert Morschel


The little craft settled slowly into the dust as its engines whined to a reluctant halt.

“I told you to take a left,” Eva said scornfully, “but no, you always know better. Bloody men. All the same.”

“So where do YOU think we are?” Harry asked, sighing loudly.

“That over there is Earth. I think they call this the Moon,” she replied, turning the pages of their Rough Guide to the Milky Way. "Unbelievable names - you'd think they thought they were the only species in the universe."

"We thought that once."

His wife scowled at him. "Oh, just shut up."

Author bio: Robert Morschel is a writer of software in London, and sometimes a writer of words at http://mulledvine.com.  

Follow him at http://twitter.com/RobertMorschel

Lunatic

by Robert Morschel


I stand under the moonlight, my long, sinewy arms outstretched, my hands splayed to catch her silvery rays.  She is mine and I am hers: the Lady of the Night.  I shiver as she smiles at me and caresses my naked body with cool, tender whispers.  From deep within a howl emerges, rising to my lips, and slowly I lift my head to declare my love to the world.

A voice cries through the stillness of the night, interrupting.

“Honey, supper will be ready in 5 minutes.”

Reluctantly I turn from the maisonette window and draw the curtains.

Reality calls.

Author bio: Robert Morschel is a writer of software in London, and words at http://mulledvine.com.

Follow him on Twitter.