I found myself outside a large building, a building that looked familiar. After a few moments, I realized that it looked like many buildings I had encountered in my life, especially in childhood.
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She didn’t like waiting. She knew it was better for her to be in the car, but it still irked her.
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Grey. Grey, somehow flat, but fully three-dimensional. Grey, with no horizon, no ground or floor, no ceiling, no sky. And no I. Just thoughts.
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When Saeka was but a girl-sorceress, she learned the art of walking between worlds. She would go wherever her fancy took her, driving her teachers to distraction. Only the most powerful among them could follow, and tracking her was a major undertaking. So she wandered the uncounted worlds, indulging her curiosity and avoiding tedious classes.
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My headache was getting worse. I ignored it and walked down the corridor, into the main chamber.
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“Burnt her out, have you?”
So spoke the eponymous proprietor of Mr. Dreyson’s Shop, a small and rotund man..
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I was barely halfway down the ladder when the first ones hit. A series of deep, bass booms. I could feel the vibration in my fingers. And just like that, I had a headache.
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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’.

“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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The third story in the unfinished series that began with ‘TTCS’ was written less than a year later, at the end of 1993. Like the previous two, its relative childishness or impressiveness is up to you: ‘Lynner’.

First, there is breath. Breathing must be easy and deep. Anticipation must not intefere with steady respiration.
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The story I wrote after ‘TTCS’ also felt significant, and came to me in a rush one night. It’s part of the same unfinished series, and like its predecessor might rank either as childish juvenilia or important early work: ‘Rondo’.

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 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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Stretched out ahead of her, the land was red and orange, scattered with yellow grass and rocks. Hard country, hot and dusty and lean, but she had plenty of water.

She didn’t look behind her. She knew what was back there.
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As I sit on my throne, I think of my Queen. My ex-Queen, now gone, gone but alive but not forgotten.

I think of my Queen.
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“You need us,” said the djinn, “To realize the world you want.”
“But what’s in it for you?”
“The fulfillment of our function. We exist to serve.”
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I had loved Saura all my life.
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The viscous remains oozed between my fingers. Already, it was beginning to disappear, passably similar to rapid evaporation.
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