Must Read Sci-Fi Novellas


Boomers For The Stars

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Coronavirus Crisis

Is there anything, at this point, that hasn’t already been said about COVID-19?

Perhaps there are two things that haven’t been explored enough:

  1. What must it be like to die (or even to survive, potentially with noticeably reduced lung capacity for the rest of your life) gasping for breath with only strangers around you in a crowded hospital corridor?  How long would my wise cracks about this being a hell of a way to solve the aging Baby-Boomer problem sustain me?  How much would I ache to tell my children and grandchildren one more time that they must never condemn their precious selves, no matter what their failings?  Or would I be capable of any thought at all, throughout the nebulous sea of those seemingly endless last days and hours, beyond the feverish struggle to suck in the next breath?
  2. For those of us fortunate enough not to have symptoms, but sober enough not to hide in denial, life as we’ve known it is gone.  Almost at the snap of a finger.  Even the USA’s First Amendment right of the people to assemble is gone.  As one of my daughters pointed out, under far unhappier circumstances it’s not unlike the sudden and absolute readjustment required when all the king’s horses and all the king’s men fail to prepare anyone adequately for the birth of their first child.

I love you all and wish you all the best.  As you pace about the confines of your homes may the gentle whisper of someone singing somewhere, or the soft tinkle of a piano, waft through your window to remind you that you’re not alone.

Flash Fiction

Trumping Trump

I finally worked up the courage to answer:  “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” “Of all the hoary clichés…  Just tell me what happened!” Glaring past the distraction of the magnetic car’s holographically enhanced dash, I narrowed my eyes at the “driver.”  She was…
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My Mother Mary

In her 90’s she’d skinny dip with sharks she said had never bitten her but had a mischievous look in their eyes.  She reported this with a sparkle in her own sea-blue eyes. My daughter and I had traveled 24 hours to find her on a remote South Pacific island. …
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Phavorite Pharoah

It was hot.  I was the only passenger steaming up the Nile on The Sudan.  All rich wood and polished brass.  Built in 1885 for King Fouad. But in September 2016, my host and guide was a young, hot-headed, surly intellectual, who loved his country.  Ashore, amidst the ruins, he’d…
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Happy Holidays!

And several goodbyes: OUT WITH THE OLD: Goodbye to Tales of the Storage Space, the saga of a Brooklyn building, down on its luck, which was once so much more. (I posted the final episode, Part 150, last week.) Goodbye to my weekly posts, which I’ve been doing since December…
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Tales of the Storage Space, Part 150

Frank kept tormenting himself, over and over again, with the words his now-dead partner Alex used to use:  How could I?  How could he have let his own hurt feelings allow him to abandon Karen when she’d needed him most, only oozing his green-ghost-mist self back into the storage space…
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