All posts filed under: the day’s not-book read

Raven9 ~ George Donnelly

This short-story pinged into my mail box a few months back, an ad offer to stimulate my interest in a dystopian, libertarian short fiction collection soon to be released. I had read bits of George Donnelly’s fiction here and there, but when this came I thought he had finally hit the right track. This was sooo much better than anything else! There’s possibly one word too many, but that’s about the only fault I’ll find with this bit of fiction… Hope you enjoy this too — be sure to let me know as you finish reading it. ◊ Raven Number 9. My streets, my city, my prey. Mine. I alone defend it now. For the ancestors! *** “It was all black!” Rona pushed herself against the wall behind a dusty, bannerless stairwell and sobbed. “Relax.” Dane tapped his ear. “Wolf to Roundhouse. Come in.” He paused but no answer came back. The deep guttural throom of the floating vehicle zoomed toward them. Rona threw herself into Dane. “You said it would be in and out. …

Passenger ~ Monica Gebell

This non-fiction essay appeared in today’s The Forge   “Wherefore, unsatisfied Soul? and Whither, O mocking Life?” -Whitman, “A Passage to India” “Only connect.” -E.M. Forster, A Passage to India   Do you believe you known me for last ten years? I remember almost everything X I remember everything but names. You bought me a beautiful outfit. What do you call it? This is my car, madam, wherever you wish to go. Backpack, passport, journal, hiking boots, antibiotics, and dollars: to you, I was these, from Delhi to Agra. After the Taj, you took me to a nearby restaurant for tourists like me. Rich girl, Westerner. You sat across from me, watching me order food with your chin on your hands. You refused to order, so I shared my meal, which you didn’t refuse. The manipulation wasn’t subtle, but I admired the technique. I was nearly engaged to an American. You were betrothed to an Indian girl since her family promised her years ago. We passed aromatic dishes in silver bowls between us, hardly talking, …