Fiction

Sometimes the hardest one to live with is yourself.

Back Seat Driver Pt 2

Read Pt 1"No, Rachel, you don't understand! We can be together, forever, now. God, Rachel, don't you know how I need you? I'm lost—lost!" "So, I'm trapped in this damned house, with nothing to do but hold your hand?" "Rachel," he protested, genuinely hurt. "Don't you love me? My God, woman, I've given you a second life!" "Doing the dishes and regulating the air conditioning. All your talk about not making me a drudge and you lock my mind into a housekeeping computer. You call this a second life?" "You never talked to me like that...
Sometimes you have to believe in justice to hold on to your sanity

Return of Themis

Lynn bit her lip and gripped her hands so tightly she could smell blood from them. Or maybe it was her lip. Or both. Brenda was weeping in her sleep again. Begging. "Please...please don't! Petey please!" Lynn had heard it...
A sci-fi Native American (First Nations) story

FINAL POTLATCH

Foreword: This story is fiction framed in ethnology. First published by Altair Magazine of Australia, which no longer exists.  The illustration was scanned from the magazine. Updated in 2010 to honor the Vancouver community, whose Canadian and First Nations societies...
Sometimes the hardest one to live with is yourself.

Back Seat Driver Pt 1

  The lights have been left on.   Stephen growled at the car and slammed the door shut with unwarranted violence.  Through the door, he could still faintly hear the pleasant voice of the car's computer:   As you have...
Sometimes the hardest one to live with is yourself.

Back Seat Driver Pt 2

Read Pt 1"No, Rachel, you don't understand! We can be together, forever, now. God, Rachel, don't you know how I need you? I'm lost—lost!" "So, I'm trapped in this damned house, with nothing to do but hold your hand?"...
Sometimes you have to believe in justice to hold on to your sanity

Return of Themis

Lynn bit her lip and gripped her hands so tightly she could smell blood from them. Or maybe it was her lip. Or both. Brenda was weeping in her sleep again. Begging. "Please...please don't! Petey please!" Lynn had heard it...
What kind of monster killed her son?

The Monster She Lives With

Nina Lynn Brody smoothed her hand over the glassy surface of the tiny metal coffin. It seemed too small to hold all the joy and energy, the magic and mayhem of her son. Surely he'd been bigger than...
A sci-fi Native American (First Nations) story

FINAL POTLATCH

Foreword: This story is fiction framed in ethnology. First published by Altair Magazine of Australia, which no longer exists.  The illustration was scanned from the magazine. Updated in 2010 to honor the Vancouver community, whose Canadian and First Nations societies...
So many things seem impossible, so how did they get done?

Assailing the Impossible

There were many adjectives one could use to describe Laney Sul, with her laser cut black hair and her even sharper black eyes, with her quick hands and even quicker brain. Patient was not one of them. With six standards...