Martin M. Clark

Martin M. ClarkMartin M. Clark is a freelance writer and occasional poet.

He is the author of supernatural noir novellas formally produced by Eggplant Literary Productions (now sadly defunct) and short stories in Third Flatiron anthologies. He also contributes to several online publications including, and His range of subject matter includes science fiction, urban fantasy, romance and westerns. He puts this down to the somewhat eclectic mobile lending library where he grew up.

He works as a local government officer in south-west Scotland but still finds time to be an evil stepfather.

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Fuga Mortem

“Please, gentlemen, make yourself comfortable.” I polarised the windows against the glare of a SoCal summer as they took their seats. My two visitors were the proverbial ‘odd couple’: Air Force General Branning looked uncomfortable just being out of uniform while his aide, Major Cain, would probably have remained cool, … Continue reading

Past Imperfect

I tuned back in as Director Hobson came to the end of his welcome for the new interns. I’d heard his spiel numerous times before – he liked to have me there as an example of how agents could make multiple trips through the vortex and suffer no ill-effects. Yeah, … Continue reading

Waste Not

“You know they call us body-snatchers?” I flicked my gaze to the rear-view mirror then back to the street ahead. I hadn’t driven for Elaine Grey before but it was obvious she needed reassurance. “As long as they stick to just name-calling, Miss, then everything will be fine.” She twisted … Continue reading

Just Peachy

“Be cool, man, everything is just… peachy.” Harry Hale sank back into a drug-and-booze torpor. Peachy? Not with a dead teenage girl lying on the floor of his hotel suite. Harry was the vocalist with Harry and The High, a psychotropic rock band. I don’t like working with musicians at … Continue reading


The doors closed with a whine of servos and that heavy clunk particular to armour plate. My visitor was a man of medium height with a friendly, open face, seemingly devoid of guile. He smiled. “Good evening Mister Ghent. My name is Peter Anders. I’m the designated hostage negotiator, and … Continue reading

Morte Ex Machina

“Are you by nature a religious man, Technician Brandt?” I looked up from my diagnostics pad at the anthropomorphic bust of Leon Hurst, former CEO of Temple Pharmaceuticals. “Religious, sir? Not really; not beyond a general belief in a higher power.” It smiled. “Quite the Masonic answer. Furthermore I cannot … Continue reading


“Please take a seat, McMaster.” I sat across the desk from Director Haining, unbuttoning my jacket so that the Glock didn’t snag on the lining. The only source of illumination in his office was the desk lamp. Haining obviously thought the down-lighter made him look serious and brooding, whereas all … Continue reading


“The simulation is complete. Creation of an artificial singularity is deemed viable. Do you wish to repeat the simulation?” I sat back, frowning at the screen. A phone began ringing in the background but I ignored it. “Do you wish to repeat the simulation?” “No, no, that’s fine. Leave it … Continue reading

Stage Fright

“My name is Vigo Hanesh and I’m a conjurer.” The auditorium reeked of late-afternoon apathy and crushed egos. Everyone – the production team, stage security, the three judges – looked sweaty and tired. The judges stirred in their seats – Ms Simper and Messrs Gushing and Hardass. Gushing spoke between … Continue reading