Is there a showdown between the Executive and Legislative branches looming? The White House is treating Congress rather contemptuously, telling ex-Counsel Harrier Miers not to even show up to her Congressional hearing after getting subpoenaed.
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I would be stammering, if I could say something. My mind feels blank, and nothing emerges from my lips.
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The fourth and last (to date) finished story in the same series that began with ‘TTCS’, this one is a little different from the others, but the impact of that difference is for you to decide: ‘A City Tale’.
After my last post on suggestibility, I wasn’t sure whether or not I was overly gullible regarding Derren Brown’s claims.
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“Joshua—”
“What are you doing, barging in here? You can’t do that, how did you get past the—”
“Come on, they know who I am, and I told them it was an emergency. It is an emergency!”
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I’ve been thinking more about biking recently, perhaps as a result of going mountain biking for the first time, perhaps because of some of the anti-cyclist vitriol I’ve seen online. I’ve never been particularly political about my cycling, it’s just an efficient, non-polluting, mostly-enjoyable, convenient and cheap way to get from A to B. Another reason I haven’t been political about it is because I haven’t had particularly bad experiences, and my employers have always been bike-friendly.
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First, there is breath. Breathing must be easy and deep. Anticipation must not intefere with steady respiration.
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I’ve written more fiction in the last eight days than I have in years, with seven finished stories (some of them even too long to count as microfiction). I’ve also been working on the second draft of my science fiction novel, and on a short story that’s been in my head for more than a decade.
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I fell behind in replying to blog comments while I was on vacation, and beyond… but I’ve caught up now. Apologies to those I’ve insulted terribly through my tardiness.
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It started with the cats. Two cats, on his way home one night. He’d always been good with cats, and stopped to say hello to these two. But they wouldn’t come near him.
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Curious Eddy was dead. At least that’s what Mrs. Curious Eddy said to me. She seemed sincere, but I’d learned to never take anything for granted. I told her I’d ask some questions, see where some things stood, and get back to her on whether I’d take the case.
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About 16 years ago I wrote (the first version of) the first short story that felt significant to me. I’d written stories before, but this one was really mine somehow, and achieved its purpose more fully than any I’d done previously. It’s part of a series, an unfinished series that I’ve written several stories from. I’ve shown them to people, read them at workshops, distributed them in magazines, but for some reason I never put them online. Until now. Childish juvenilia or important early work, your call: ‘TTCS’ (this is the third and last version, from early 1993).
I’m not sure how many people still believed that the rule of law still functioned in this country, but the commutation of Scooter Libby’s sentence more or less puts paid to the idea.
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I saw her when we were at the gates. Her auburn hair caught my eye, and I fell in love. I looked away when the Marine Captain fired into the air. The crowd moved back, afraid. But we all remembered: plague. And surged forward once again.
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The horseman rode slowly along the path, evidently not in any hurry. Two swords stuck out from under his cloak. He wore a plain helm with no visor.
“What brings you, noble sir, to our lady’s lands?”. Pulling to a halt, the rider regarded the small man who had issued the question.
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