A bit emo. Too dark. Woke stuff. Vulgar.
A bit emo. Too dark. Woke stuff. Vulgar.
The gun-toting boys waved through a truck laden with supplies. Kerchiefs covered the faces of those who bothered to protect themselves at all. In a testament to their rugged image of manhood, most went without masks.
It’s always a valuable exercise to take stock of who you are outside of the hot buzzwords of the day.
Topher Blanderson stared at his computer screen, knowing something wasn’t quite right but unable to put his finger on it. The account numbers scrolled past, a series of figures moving so quickly, they were almost hypnotic. His head ached.
Elia stepped in between the two men and swept the back of Mac’s feet with her staff. He landed flush on his back, and by the time he realized his position, the butt of her staff pressed against his throat. The rest of the Carmillon gathered around, a wall of steel-eyed gazes whose body language hinted that they were well trained and not afraid to get in a fight. The detectives were clearly outnumbered.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to catch up with Brandon Massey. We first met at HorrorFind IV where we were on what was probably the first “black people who write horror” panel.
This story from issue 2 (August, 2009) is one of the earliest known examples of Afrofuturist steampunk. Resistance and revolution served up on a memorable plate of characters and airships.
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