The Broken One

By Nicholas Stillman

In a world erased by sand, which words can survive and which will stay dead with the rest of humanity? One mute traveler knows the answer: the robed man, a supreme survivalist paid to lead children across the barren wasteland. Known as a crosser for crossing impossible terrains, the robed man must deliver Benny, a broken child, to The Gate Up Ahead. The master and his loopy apprentice not only face starvation on the flatlands, but they also find themselves flung into civilization’s new brutal law systems. This time, the two must survive a game worse than any sandstorm.

As the robed man adapts to the new hailstorm of desert justice, he must face something even more stunning on the horizon: a revelation about himself, his damaged human cargo, and his shaping of the remainder of humankind.

Get “The Broken One” now and learn the law of the jungle-turned-desertscape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stillman Sci-Fi
• Release date: Feb 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386608578

Nicholas Stillman

Nicholas Stillman writes dark but entertaining science fiction. His weekly short stories and collections aim for variety and novelty with fun and thought-provoking twists. They often branch into dystopia, crime, horror, medical fiction, black comedy, romance, adventure, adult, and the completely new. Some of Stillman’s themes include civilizational collapse, addictions of the future, medicine in space, dark psychology, and the terrifying fate of our healthcare. Stillman offers monthly free short stories at StillmanSciFi.com. Get yourself free, easily accessible short stories for life--the perfect way for any science fiction fan to spend time on commutes or at home.

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The Broken One | By Nicholas Stillman

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The Broken One

By Nicholas Stillman

© 2018 Nicholas Stillman

Get free short stories monthly at stillmanscifi.com

THE SNAKES WOULD ALWAYS bask over the same pattern of cracks in the flatlands. They effused from the barren earth and waited by the safety of the bottomless fissures. For a few of them, however many the robed man wanted to eat, the cracks could never provide quite enough safety. The tall man, snakily thin himself, rolled up his scuffed sleeves and eyed his grubby machete handle. It protruded like a lever from his frizzy rope belt. He acted out his motions as though the meat would slither forth and do half the cooking for him in the midday sun. Today, though, the snakes did not show.

The robed man didn’t have a name anymore. In times like this, of predictable failure on the parched rock, he didn’t deserve one. Men with his graying hair deserved no names, not after what happened to the world.

The boy who waited 16 paces behind him did have a name: Benny. The sacred eight-year-old made anyone near him sacred too, and the robed man at least had that peripheral worth. The wind, however, didn’t care about precious children. It whipped around the boy, trying to erode him like the rest of the Earth. As a little favor, the breeze whistled loudly enough to muffle Benny’s steps, should they come as impulsively as usual. Scampering would still scare off the snakes, but at least the robed man wouldn’t have to hear the annoying patter. He turned and saw Benny still standing obediently, as instructed minutes before. Minutes meant an eternity for such a broken child.

Benny’s head