Our garden grows ripe and strong, even if the soil is bare,
around the head of Mrs. Long, that Daddy had left lying there. [Read more…] about Talking Your Way into Dodge
Virtual Home of Asher Black & Lair of the Ashermost
Our garden grows ripe and strong, even if the soil is bare,
around the head of Mrs. Long, that Daddy had left lying there. [Read more…] about Talking Your Way into Dodge
A man had twenty four hands, and each of his hands held a secret or an answer. He lived in Russia in 1913, under the reign of the last Tsar. There were many such itinerant people then, and many made their living from fortune telling or as oracles of astrological research. Let’s call him Ivan, since it’s the most common man’s name in Russia. It’s like John in the US, and it’s pronounced “ee-VON” not “EYE-vun”. That’s important. [Read more…] about The White Lies of Ivan the 24-Handed
Darryl held the cup of coffee over the edge of the fire escape, eying the two taxis below. Whichever one started to move first, that’s whose barista he would become.
Jill was late for work, and the whole call taxi thing was new to her. In New York, you didn’t really call unless you were out in the burbs. Maybe you summoned a cab with a cell phone app – you could do that. But she never heard of anyone calling from lower Manhattan. Chicago would be an adjustment – you could flag a taxi in Chicago, but not this far off the brown line. Damn, there was the horn, and her hair dryer wasn’t working. How are you supposed to operate like that, when everyone in the law office has a suit worth more than your last vacation? Especially if you ever wanted to clerk your way up the ladder without sleeping with it. [Read more…] about F*ck Your Day Job
Hon Carter had a machine gun behind his eyes. Wherever he looked, he saw carnage, and he was the cause of it. He had long ago tried to blind those eyes, not once but three times, when he was foolish enough to think he could spend eternity doing any other job. When you were drafted, you didn’t get to pick your duty, and that went double in God’s army. Now it was a soggy, crimson mess that oozed from his sockets, and still he saw. There’s a strange kind of hope in mutilating oneself, and maybe there was an end to it at last. Just three more names. [Read more…] about Nightmares in Heaven
Ten Barber is a basket of disasters. He falls asleep at inconvenient times, mostly whenever he’s comfortable, but has insomnia that keeps him awake during all the appropriate hours of slumber. He speaks word salad gibberish when he’s *not* nervous, and is barely audible when he is. Worst of all, he continually sees things that are out of place, oddly juxtaposed, or just mismatched and can’t stop himself from trumpeting these observations with crystal clarity. No word salad there. Ten Barber makes friends like a teenager makes love – for five minutes at a time, but as often as you like. Ten is 25-ish – he says 25-ish when anyone asks, because Ten can’t seem to remember specifics about himself or his personal life. He hasn’t got a personal life, as far as he knows. [Read more…] about Blind to the World (part 1)