The asthmatic death rattle of the air-scrubber was a comfortable sound, a beacon home in the crushing waves of the street. It had guided him home every night now for eight years to the same drafty building and the same putrid stairs, and the same motherless little girl at the top who made it all worthwhile. Clara was eleven and all that came with it. Her father would give his life to save hers.
This one's a short stand-alone I wrote back in '04. It's set in medaeval Europe, sometime after the events of King Arthur's time. It is, of course, my own work, and not to be republished or sold. Enjoy. “I am old,” I tell him. “My eyes do not work like they used to. Give me… Continue reading Glastonbury Abbey
“What's the word, Feng,” he asked the alien as it hovered back and forth, stirring this pot...mixing that... “I just told the blue boy I ain't seen nothing,” he mumbled. “You eating tonight?”
"My friends, guests, neighbors, jokebrunts, et cetera, et cetera, I have asked you to come because Things are Happening," said the satyr.
"Now, here are my maps, all very incomplete, of course—a little hobby of mine. Folks from all over come in here, mostly gnomes, of course, but a few dwarves not too proud to duck a bit sometimes. The Father has blessed all his children, and I feel my blessing is to share in hospitality."
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A slender girl was silhouetted in the doorway against the early light.
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Nat took another drink and began another tale...
It was a slow day in 1871...
Let me tell you about last Saturday. On Saturday I was in my studio again, trying to sketch a dragon...
This is a re-posting of a list I hung on my old Blogspot page in 2011. I launch this blog with a list of songs not to play upon particular occasions. Of course, the AHA research saying that a 103-beat/minute rhythm is ideal for hands-only CPR—then pointing out that it's the precise beat of both… Continue reading Stop Playing My Song!