‘Larry Puregreed, ascend to the dock.’ The man’s voice was deep, commanding, his use of Larry’s name carried disgust, scorn and condemnation.
Larry moved through the crowd, most of whom made little effort to give way, so he was forced to push his way past confined flesh to the foot of the stairs. He crawled without looking back, bare knees sticking on the soiled treads beneath his skin.
‘You are Larry Puregreed?’
He looked across at Yuko and answered.
‘Louder. The whole court, the entire world wants to know you’re the person named.’ She was enjoying her supremacy.
‘I am Larry Puregreed.’
‘The evidence against you in the matter of your pollution, degradation, neglect and destruction of our home with your selfish, greedy, deliberate and fully informed actions is too vast to display here.’ A graphic on the large screens listed the many documents involved, scrolling through a total of over a hundred thousand items. ‘As the evidence is overwhelming, we will reach judgment at once.’
A brief consultation among the eight on the platform followed Yuko’s short speech.
The big man spoke again. ‘We sentence you, Larry Puregreed to suffer the rage of the people. You will therefore pass through this court into the square and feel the wrath of those you have damaged.’
Larry realised this was his last chance. ‘I never meant to…’
The big man cut him off. ‘Really? Never meant what? Never meant to destroy Earth with your greed? Gratifying to know, ultimately, your greed and that of others like you, brought us to the brink of extinction, but just might save the planet. Our existence hangs in the balance, however. Unlike yours. You’ve no defence. No mitigating circumstances. You knew exactly what your actions would cause, and therefore forfeit the right to speak. You will receive the punishment your victims consider appropriate. Descend and leave this court.’
Larry wanted to respond but the guard at the top of the stairs prodded him with his club. He could stay and be beaten or move down the stairs. He descended into the hell his world quickly became.
They let him reach the outside with only slaps, punches, kicks and spittle to accompany him. On the steps down to the city square, the mob approached, deafening in their anger. Fingers poked his eyes. Feet pounded his most vulnerable parts. Fists and fingernails wounded his face and torso. Vicious hands gripped his limbs, wrenched him, tore his skin. Burning brands scorched his flesh. Darkness took him some unnamed time before they reduced him to charred body parts, blood and gore.
In the courthouse, Yuko and her colleagues sentenced others, one by sorry one, to their personal doom.
the end About the author
Stuart Aken counts himself lucky to be a writer. ‘What other job allows you to daydream, record your personal thoughts, make stuff up and then deliver it to the public?’ He has written romance, science fiction, horror, literary, fantasy, erotica, thriller and refuses to be pigeonholed. He and his wife Valerie now live in the Forest of Dean. The surrounding countryside provides opportunities for peaceful walks during which he allows his mind to wander and develop ideas.
Stuart is an invited contributor to this anthology.
FIRE & ICE
Louisa Morillo
A long translucent finger ran down the menu, the words beneath it swelling and contracting in response, restless at such indecision.
‘We have a three-course sampling menu at the moment, if you can’t decide. That way you can try them on ice, hot off the fire… a bit of everything.’
The finger paused, then performed a slight jig to a soundtrack of ooohs and hmmms.
‘Oh, go on then!’
‘Would you like to see it first?’
‘Nah… surprise me!’ said the finger’s owner, relinquishing the menu and picking up a vessel of greenish sludge. A garish umbrella floated within.
‘That’s not like you…’ her companion said, not disapprovingly.
‘Ah, well, we’re on holiday…’ The vessel was swilled absentmindedly, its contents glowing slightly in the candlelight. The umbrella danced cheerfully on the surface, accompanied by the occasional plastic bottle or unidentifiable wrapper – all of them oblivious to the stench emitted by the surrounding liquid.
The owner of the concoction took a sip and pulled a face, all three noses wrinkling with displeasure.
‘Nope, sorry. Call me fussy but I prefer it without bits.’
‘It used to come that way, you know,’ her companion said, taking a gulp of his own identical beverage. ‘Used to be clear. Even came with ice before the planet got too hot. Only took them a few hundred years to turn it into this.’
‘Good thing we got here when we did, then.’
‘Quite. Oooh… here comes the first course…’ He laughed at her face as the platter of ice was set down in the middle of the table.
‘Are they… raw?’ she asked, looking at the flailing creatures.
‘Yes – they’re still alive, silly. They have to be. Always check for audible screams – you don’t want food poisoning.’
He picked one up, slurped on it noisily, and set its now-empty skull back upon the icy platter, mmmm-ing appreciatively.
‘They’re really good, honestly. It’s just that you get the occasional bit of gritty jewellery.’
She picked up the remaining creature by its leg – making it screech even more loudly – and popped it into her mouth. The screams fell silent and the skull was spat back on to the ice.
‘Not so bad, actually,’ she conceded, with a dainty cough. ‘I think I might’ve got an earring, though.’
The slightly bloodstained ice was cleared away.
‘Rare, medium, well…?’
‘Oh, extra rare. Blue. So you can still see the tattoos. And she’ll have hers extra well-done,’ he said, all five eyes rolling with jovial disapproval.
‘I do feel a bit bad. Hopefully they’re ethically sourced… ’ she mused as they waited. ‘I was thinking of cutting down a bit.’
‘Nah, you can’t worry about everything. It helps keep their population in check so they can’t keep destroying their planet. Imagine how much murkier this seawater would be if we hadn’t discovered how tasty they are.’ He knocked back a little more of the stuff.
‘Oh, for goodness sake. I’m paying for a 170-pound human. This one can’t possibly be more than 130. It’s overcooked as well. I mean, look!’ He prodded its lower back with his fork. ‘I can’t even tell if that’s a butterfly or a dolphin.’
Another translucent finger was wiped around the plate and licked appreciatively by a spiny, slightly metallic tongue.
‘Well, I’ll admit it – that was delicious. Not as overcooked as I thought it’d be. Bit small, though. How was yours?’
‘Really nice. I do prefer the bald ones though.’
‘Madness!’ he exclaimed as their plates were cleared. ‘The crispy burned hair is the best bit. Either that or popping the eyeballs in between your teeth. Mmmm…’
A dessert trolley appeared. Yet more screaming humans were tossed into a pan of hot rum and promptly engulfed in flames. The diners looked on eagerly as the chef added fruit, the fire burgeoning theatrically in response.
‘A perfect end to a near-perfect meal,’ one of the duo enthused, scraping burned flesh from within his elaborate crystal dessert dish. ‘Mmmm, you can really taste the caramelised brains.’
He took another enthusiastic mouthful but, to his companion’s horror, spat it back into the bowl, repulsed.
‘Ugh! Oh, that’s disgusting,’ he gasped, taking a large gulp of sludge, in which floated several decaying limbs. He shuddered. ‘It’s got banana in it.’