“You have the power of….” The old man began. He lifted his fists into the air and paused. Though part of me was put off by the dramatic display, another part of me admired the show. That part couldn’t help but wait with bated breath. He then brought his fists down. “… time travel!” Wow! For a crazy guy, he sure had great flair. But I seemed to be the only one who appreciated it. No one else in the place raised an eyebrow. Even our waitress who was in the process of pouring his second cup of coffee didn’t miss a beat. Continue reading A Glimpse
“Frank! Come on in.” Her smile faltered when he hesitated and Frank suppressed a rush of indignation at the sight of her office. It should be his. Instead, he silently fumed, the Board chose this black chick to be Director of Biochemical Processes; ostensibly, because of her supposed “outstanding education” and “groundbreaking achievements”. But Frank knew the truth: political correctness run amok! She probably learned chemistry in some crack-house somewhere and Stanford tripped over themselves to get her because of affirmative action. When he said as much, his colleague called a racist! Frank told him a racist was just an insult to a white man who wanted a level playing field. It wasn’t fair. Things have gone off the rails since he was a kid. Nothing made sense anymore- except the 9×19 Sig Pro tucked into the back of his pants. Guns made sense where there was none.
“You wouldn’t have known me a year ago.”
“Could that be because I don’t know you now?”
“Charlotte, I have to ask again… One last time… Will you marry me?”
I write fantasy. I love writers of urban folklore like Charles de Lint and Emma Bull. I have fun reading Kelley Armstrong. I enjoy adventures by Daniel Jose Older and feel the spirit of Octavia Butler. I hope to follow in their footsteps.
But, sometimes, the real world gets to me and I get… feelings. And sometimes these feelings come out in stories. Now, I wasn’t sure if I would ever share these stories on my blog, but I was sure I wouldn’t share them first. These types of stories are not my forte and not my “brand”.
Then this week happened. And, between hearing the cries of children in distress and listening to people make excuses for it, I just said “fuck it”. So I, humbly, present….
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