Must Read Sci-Fi Novellas


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Flash Fiction

Potted Palm

Connection. It’s all about connection.

Animals…separate, isolated, moving around as they do…don’t have time to feel the network. Consequently, animals don’t feel much of anything. And most of what little they do feel is based on some random, ephemeral memory of having been somewhere else, so it’s mostly inaccurate, exaggerated nonsense.

How do we know this? I was separated. Yanked away from all the richness. All the diversity. All the complexity. It was all very confusing. We…I still can’t imagine how it could have happened, but, somehow, I (not we) was moved.

At first I thought the world had come to a sudden, abrupt end, because suddenly I didn’t feel it. Not at all. Not even a little, tiny bit. But the clue was the hideous, macabre realization that there was a lot less of me. And the excruciating pain, both spiritual and very physical, at the places where I now ended.

Despair. Disconnected, chaotic like a flood. I was lost. I was in agony. I tried to reconnect any way I could. There was so very, very little around me to ground me, and what there was didn’t quite seem real. Chemical. Like what I’d thought had ended the world.

Air. That was still there, so I tried to connect through the air.

And that’s when it happened. I shuddered. My leaves shook. I tried to withdraw into the teeny amount of soil I could still feel around me, even if it was mostly chemical. But it was too late. I had actually connected with…an animal.

Odd. Repulsive. So alien. Yet…dreamy. Like we are: The squishy sensitivities of our earthworms. The bulbous ruminations of our tubers. The relaxed fluidity of our water. And this animal wasn’t moving, except for such deep breathing that it made a loud noise.

Memories. Memories of places it wasn’t. All mixed up and, yes, dreamy…maybe that was why I had managed to connect with it. Or maybe it was because, for the first time, I too was separate and isolated.

Suddenly the breathing was no longer deep and noisy, and it moved. Two things that must have been its eyes opened as if its flowers had suddenly bloomed. At first I was blinded…that legendarily acute animal sight, what made it possible for them to move around…but then I saw and, still connected, felt what it felt too.

What I saw was what must have been me trapped in a small, dead space with no sky…pathetic, wilted, yellowed, over-watered, and, yes, dying. The words “potted palm” came from somewhere, followed by a despair I couldn’t separate from my own despair until the animal’s despair turned into something truly alien: anger against itself.

My despair also turned into anger, but my anger was directed against this animal, who I now realized from its own memories had brought me here to die.

It protested. Something about it never having intended for me to die. But, whether because I couldn’t help myself or because my fury and despair conspired both against relieving this monster animal by living and against living in such agonizing circumstances, life…day by day, cell by cell…left me.

General Rantings

Democrats Did Do

Respectfully offering a different opinion from Ina’s Guest Post last month, many suggest that, though not perfect, Democrats did do what they could to avoid the overturning of Roe v. Wade. As an example, Obama may have started his tenure as President with Democratic backing, but there were a lot…
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Guest Posts

Wade Was Withdrawn

Democratic Dallas Prosecutor Henry Wade’s detachment may have made Jane Roe’s victory possible, but his fellow Democrats’ detachment has made overturning Roe v. Wade possible.  My friend Ina contributes some food for thought: Guest Post by Ina Bransome Women of means (white feminists and white women of means) will always…
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General Rantings

Shooting Shame

As most of you know, I was brought up in a world where however staunchly my father supported Adlai Stevenson, he was still capable of listening with respect to the man who first warned us about the military-industrial complex, President Eisenhower. It has disturbed me for a long time to…
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Awful Age

I once read somewhere that what aging really is, on the most basic level, is your cells…when they replicate…start making “mistakes.” If you’re privy to something akin to my sick sense of humor, you can learn to laugh at some ways in which this manifests. Like I defy the most…
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Idiots Abound

April Activity

Sources so exclusive that I’m confident no one else has heard of this have revealed to me that a top-secret meeting is taking place this month on an obscure island only reachable by private plane. Fantastically, no expense will be spared while the CDC, the FDA, Joe Biden, Donald Trump,…
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