CM Simpson: Writer & Gamer

 Flash is not only where I go to hone my skills, but to explore genres I don't usually write in. The amount of zombie fiction in my flash surprises me, given zombie movies now give me nightmares... Seeking Company Iron clanged against the wall, and Cassidy flinched, hunkering close to the floor. The stench of death rose around her, and she pressed her lips together, pinching her nose in an effort not to taste it. She wanted to ask Derek if the undead knew they were there, but didn’t dare say a word. If she spoke, the undead would know exactly where they were. Another clang followed, then a thump as though something fleshy had slammed into the wall. Derek tapped her shoulder, signaling they should leave. On the other side of the wall, something grunted, then screeched. Laughter echoed in reply, and another metallic clang followed, this one reminiscent of a frypan meeting muscle and bone. Derek rose to a crouch, and skulked toward the door. Another metallic clang echoed i

What kinds of poetry will our future selves write? What will they be doing? What would a future colonist write at the surprise of being chosen for a colony they really wanted to be a part of? A Colonist’s Joy I thought this day would never come That never would I rise In shuttle from the planet’s face To a starship orbiting around My homeworld Soon to be replaced By the colony home I’ve joined On a distant planet Far from where I’m now outbound.

From science fiction to fantasy, flash fiction is where I go to play with words...and ideas. Chosen Exile Selene had thought she’d never see daylight, again…or feel the touch of the sun on her skin. She wasn’t even sure it was what she wanted, save that the sound of multi-legged skittering behind her was worse than anything the surface promised. “Give me your hand.” The command came in a voice familiar enough to make her heart lurch and sink at the same time. When she remembered what she’d done, what she’d fled… Tears prickled at her eyes, and she glanced back. “Selene!” Desperation filled the word, desperation and a hint of sorrow. “ Please!” Grief? She looked up, the familiarity of the hand stretched toward her bringing remembered security she’d felt at its touch, and sadness welled within her. Would memories be all she was left with? Another glance back, and she leapt for the hand. Whatever shame awaited her, whatever rejection, it was better than dying to a thousand