Echoes and steam swirled around Nanna, merging with warm water and easing the ache in her limbs. The slick black marble walls dripped with the same sweat that crept down her face. She closed her eyes, sighing, and slid lower on the bench until the water lapped the underside of her chin. Carved into an amorphous oblong, the black granite bench had the lines of a sensual modern sculpture. Flecks of mica sparked under the water like stars had been trapped in the bench. For the sophisticated details like this, Lauger, of all the spas in Reykjavik, was her favorite; she came here every time she flew home.
She opened her eyes and caught Eric in the act of looking away from her. Smiling privately, Nanna sat up, stretching to draw her boyfriend’s gaze to her. “So. Are you enjoying the spa?” She kept her voice low to match the tone of the room.
“Oh, my god. I may never move again.” Eric ran a hand up her leg stopping just above her knee.
I’d love having a reader or two look over this one before I send it out. It is 7300 words of science-fiction. It’s in a password protected post, but you can drop me a line and I’ll tell ya.
Mary Elois Jackson stood inside the plain steel box of the time machine. It was about the size of an outhouse, but without a bench or windows. She clutched her cane with one hand and her handbag with the other.
Her corset creaked with every breath. She’d expected to hate wearing a corset again but there was a certain comfort from having something to support her back and give her a shape more like a woman than a sack of potatoes.
A gust of air puffed all around her and the steel box was gone. She stood in a patch of tall grass under an early morning October sky. The caravan of scientists, technicians and reporters had vanished from the field where they’d set up camp. Elois inhaled with wonder that the time machine had worked. Assuming that this was 1905, of course.
Even if you don’t have time to read it, I’ve got a title question.Â My working title was “Time-travelling Grandma” which I’m sort of tempted to go back to.Â Thoughts?
I somehow wound up finishing a lot of stories this month. I’d love having a reader or two look over this one before I send it out. It is 5800 words of science-fiction. It’s in a password protected post, but it’s the same as the last story. If you don’t know what that is, drop me a line and I’ll tell ya.
The afternoon sun angled across the scarred wood counter despite the bamboo shade Elise had lowered. She grimaced and picked up the steel chef’s knife, trying to keep the reflection in the blade angled away so it wouldn’t trigger a hallucination.
In one of the Better Homes and Gardens her mother had sent her from the States, Elise had seen an advertisement for carbon fiber knives. They were a beautiful matte black, without reflections. She had been trying to remember to ask Raj about ordering a set for the last week, but he was never home while she was thinking about it.
There was a time before the car accident, when she was still smart.
I just finished a short story which I’d love having a reader or two look over before I send it out. It is 4800 words of science-fiction. It’s in a password protected post, but it’s a new password. Drop me a line and I’ll tell ya.
I was never one of those girls who fell in love with horses. For one thing, on our part of New Oregon they were largely impractical animals. Most of the countryside consisted of forests attached to sheer hills and you wanted something with a little more clinging ability. So from the time I was, well, from the time I can remember I wanted a teddy bear spider more than I wanted to breathe.
The problem is that teddy bear spiders were not cheap, especially not for a pioneer family trying to make a go of it.
Mom and Dad had moved us out of Brothertown in the first wave of expansion, to take advantage of the homesteading act. Our new place was way out on the eastern side of the Oltion mountains where Dad had found this natural level patch about halfway up a forested ridge, so we got sunshine all year round, except for the weeks in spring and autumn when the rings’ shadow passed over us. Our simple extruded concrete house had nothing going for it except a view of the valley, which faced due south to where the rings were like a giant arch in the sky. Even as a twelve-year old, angry at being taken away from our livewalls in town to this dead structure, I fell in love with the wild beauty of the trees clinging to the sheer faces of the valley walls.
(Tor Books — August 21, 2018) Continuing the grand sweep of alternate history laid out in The Calculating Stars, The Fated Sky looks forward to 1961, when mankind is well-established on the moon and looking forward to its next step: journeying to, and eventually colonizing, Mars. Of course, the noted Lady Astronaut Elma York would like to go, […]