An excerpt of my story “A Night Out” is up on the Space & Time website. I wrote the first draft of this story several years ago. When I dug it up this February, I realized I’d learned a few things about writing in the intervening time and was able to give it a good polishing.
What’s most surprising about it being published now is that it actually seems timely, dealing as it does with being cooped up at home, though for a very different reason than a pandemic…
Score: an SFF symphony is a series of stories arranged to an emotional score. So, the first story focuses on longing and joy, the 4th story focuses on curiosity and respect, the 14th story focuses on hatred and fun, etc. Each story linked to the next like notes in a musical score. Interesting, no?
My story focuses on boredom and tension — yes a story about boredom, but hopefully not boring!
Here is the short interview I did about writing the story:
“…Dear Dr. Hanover,
I am writing on behalf of the Octopus bimaculoides in your office aquarium whom you call Suzy. The water is too warm. Please reduce the temperature to 18℃. She would greatly appreciate it.
Read the rest at Metaphorosis
My story “Countdown” is in the Reading 5×5 Anthology.
The Reading 5×5 anthology = 5 genres X 5 stories = 25 stories by 25 writers, plus lots of extras for writers and readers alike. I’m honored to be a part of it.
It was a labor of love for everyone involved. All proceeds go to the Clayton Memorial Medical Fund.
When I woke up that morning, Akayla wasn’t at her post. She should have been monitoring the rhodium miners and scanning the maps for possible new mining locations. We had automated systems for that, but sometimes the automated systems were wrong and human input allowed us to catch costly mistakes. Redundancy was important. Redundancy was what made the whole mining operation work. She knew that. When I checked the monitor I learned that she was outside home base, approximately 115 meters SW. She did not respond to com. Continue reading Redundancy
O’Grady sits in the armchair with the reading lamp on. The clock tells him it is 10:45, and the light from the window tells him it is morning. The armchair is new, bought just a few weeks ago, and so it puzzles him that the armrests are threadbare. They don’t make them like they used to. Continue reading Troubled Water
“We give thanks for the sun, whose energy feeds this great Earth, which, in turn, feeds us.
“We give thanks for the ocean, whose purple waters support our many-limbed body, providing the bed on which we sleep and the
platform on which we work.
“We give thanks for the pale green sky whose beauty inspires us even as it protects us from harmful cosmic radiation…”
Read the rest at Eyedrum Periodically
After 421 years guarding the graveyard without much happening, I got sleepy, so I took a nap. Big mistake.
I’m not sure how much time passed. What did I miss? Other than the usual, that is: vines knotting the graves, roots digging into earth and stone, moss growing, oak leaves rotting, worms and slugs and rabbits and foxes foraging for food, earthquakes and thunderstorms and bright sunny days too. Life and death and everything in between. Continue reading Everything in between
“It started with a routine-sounding letter from my health insurance company. I opened it quickly because I was in the mood for a snack, and there was a little picture of cherries on the lower right corner of the envelope indicating that they had used cherry-flavored paper, my favorite. I learned that I would need to get a full DNA sequencing done by the end of the year. Reasonable enough, I thought, as I tore off little pieces of the letter and let the sweet and sour cellulose dissolve on my tongue.”
Read the rest at Metaphorosis
My shtick had admittedly gotten stale. I would say, “Hello! Woooo-oooop!” Then I would sway from side to side, rub my beak on my perch and say, “Whadaya mean, crazy?” Bodean got a kick out of that the first, oh, ten times I did it.
But still, what a fuss they made over that cat. The first time the cat spoke, Bodean paused The Price is Right and remarked to Nancy, “That did not sound like a hairball.” Nancy got down on the floor and cooed, “What’s wrong Banksy? I hope you’re not sick!” Banksy leaned into the caress of her hand and repeated his first word in a crackly voice, as if he found it extremely important.
“Well, shit,” said Bodean, joining Nancy on the floor. “You ever heard a cat make a sound like that?” Continue reading Polly