The Morrows: Stories

By M.E. Purfield

"Have you ever had an author that no matter what they write you just can't wait to devour it? I have had only a handful of authors that do it for me. M.E. is one of those authors." - Fallen Over Books.

 

All teens are stifled with a device around their mouths until they are adults. But one boy sees a way to be free from them. And he is willing to sacrifice anything. (Orange Flecks).

 

A police officer screws up again. This time he may be made an example. Or, he can join a new brain-altering program that will make him a better cop. Or will it? (Through Tangled Nerves).

 

A young girl on a prison planet watches her savior die. All hope of freedom is lost. But could she be the new savior? (The Creative).

 

Collected here are three short science fiction stories from the author of the Blunt Force Kharma series and the Radicci Sisters series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: trash books
• Release date: Nov 8, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393643043

M.E. Purfield

M.E. Purfield is the autistic author who writes novels and short stories in the genres of crime, sci-fi, dark fantasy, and Young Adult. Sometimes all in the same story. Notably, he works on the Tenebrous Chronicles which encompasses the Miki Radicci Series, The Cities Series, and the Radicci Sisters Series, and also the sci-fi, neuro-diverse Auts series of short stories.

Book preview

Orange Flecks

Collin pressed Kiddy’s head to the top of the locker door, lifting him off his feet. The heel of his hand under the jawline of Kiddy’s metal voice filter, which, like mine, wrapped around his head, wedged the back steel rim into the vent of the locker door.

We should talk about this rationally, Kiddy’s filter said in a computerized voice not yet updated for puberty. He was one of the few poor kids that couldn’t afford the updates. On some underfunded socialist program, he had to wait for his free Z-rate upgrade; much like waiting for food, electricity, and water credits. The calm voice filter mismatched with Kiddy’s manic brown eyes, sweaty brown bangs pasted to his brow, and yellow-tinged skin (another unfortunate trait of being poor, not affording the jaundice treatments when taken two months out of your mother’s belly like the rest of us).

Collin punched Kiddy in the gut, folding him in half.

I’d known Collin since second grade and had never seen him so angry at another student. He wasn’t the only one. A lot of the kids were angry since the McGowan Central High kids transferred to our school due to the explosion. So far authorities didn’t know who set off the bombs but a lot of theories swirled around. The most popular was that the school had the highest test grades in the State. Maybe some parents couldn’t handle poor jaundice kids being smarter than their healthy kids which money had bought. Seems like a waste, right?

Collin’s friends and the other kids in the hallway gathered around for the beating. Some with weaker stomachs hid their faces and some with a taste for a thrill to break open the boring day of education pumped their fists and jerked with excitement. Stop the violence, or Help! Authorities! screamed out of their voice filters. I stood at the perimeter and watched, my nails digging into my palm.

Kiddy spazzed his legs out, almost kicking Collin’s groin. Collin then plowed his fist into Kiddy’s. Somehow my eyes locked with the poor kid’s. The sorrow, the pain! Nausea swirled in my gut and climbed up my throat. I stepped out of the crowd.

Let’s talk about this rationally, my voice filter said.

I drove my foot right into Collin’s ass, bending a toe wrong in my sneaker. The crowd clapped their hands over their speakers. If they could, they would all be saying Ooooo, empathizing with Collin’s pain.

Collin fell into Kiddy, using the poor kid for support. I pushed the bigger kid into the locker and punched him in the eye. His head snapped back. I tried to land one into his nose but my knuckles collided with his metal voice filter instead. Pain flared but blood didn’t break out.

We should hear each other out, my voice filter said.

My side of the argument is similar to yours, said Collin’s.

He rushed up, making me stumble into the crowd. The kids, not yet done with the show, pushed me back to him. Keeping with expectations, we furled into a storm of punches and kicks. It seemed like an hour before the school guards separated us, but it was probably just a few minutes.

T here now, the school nurse said. You’re not perfect but a sight better than the other boy you were fighting with.

Collin lay on a gurney farther back in the room. The guards had to carry him here since he said the pain was wracking his right leg and ribs. The nurse injected him with painkillers that not only relieved him but knocked him out. When she finished up, she called a medi-van to take him to the hospital and his parents.

I sat on the exam table at the front of the office where she cleaned the blood off my cheekbones and brows and sealed the broken skin with small white bandages. My sides ached from the few body blows Collin snuck in. I should feel a lot of pain but all I could focus on was the nurse’s mouth. No lipstick or make-up tricks. Only thin lips enunciating words, a tongue peeking out to moisten them in concentration, and white perfect teeth.

Do you need something? the nurse asked.

I pried my attention off her mouth and looked into her eyes.

Excuse me, my voice filter asked.

For the pain?

I placed both hands over my betraying groin and nodded. I needed something bad.

Outside the nurse’s office, Nelly’s ice-blue eyes revealed sorrow as she tipped her head to the side. Her books under one arm and pressed to her slim waist, she stepped closer and hugged me with her free one. I nuzzled into her long apple-scented red hair.

You look so handsome today, her voice filter said, contrasting with her sad, sympathetic eyes.

I smiled, stretching against the inside of the filter and jolting in contained laughter. She dropped her books and wrapped both arms around me, squeezing and mewing. Nelly and I had been going out now for six months. We’d fooled around the best we could, as far as she wanted to go, but what we both craved was our mouths on each other, as all the kids in our school. That wouldn’t happen for another two years when we turned eighteen.

Sighing, I broke off her.

Excuse me but I must report to the principal’s office for my punishment, my voice filter said.

Nelly nodded and twittered her first two fingers, the sign that we would text later.

S ince you attacked a student for no reason, Principal