[Selections from a diary found in a hovel discovered in Sec. IV of NYC-NJ Corridor. Arranged[1] by Nick Hilbourn for group review at Phoenixville Friends Meeting. Friends should meditate on content of diary and consider implications of Jesun...
The Professor strode majestically through the hall, display cases on either side of him. Six of his students followed their teacher, hanging on his every word. “Now,” he said, gesturing all around them, “we come to my favorite place in the...
B-B-Birdman! Seven-foot bipedal hominid B-B-Bald, black-wingéd thing. Got claws and talons… Raise a ruckus on your rooftops, shake yer urban trees. I hith with a lisp and screech, Parrot beak down power poles Emit such a horrible reek your eyes...
Color. Light and color—these things, above all others, saturate my senses as I step into the radiance of two suns over the broad grandeur of the Avenue of Unity. No human hand raised these pillars, no human brain fathomed their symmetry nor imagined...
You’ve been here before. You know the facts and measurements, diameters, volumes, transference into examples, illustrations. You’ve seen the tapes, the fakes, you know all the debates. You’ve collected video documentation, journalistic speculation...
10 “If anyone asks,” Jason says, “tell them we’re fine.” But we’re not fine. The words never escape your lips. You swallow them and they sit heavy in your stomach like a wad of over-chewed gum. Instead, you nod. ...
“Sing to me,” she murmured in the ruins, ragged webs of silk clinging to her form, white hair drifting down over shadow-flesh, not daring to speak above a whisper, for her breathless voice brought death with its sound. “Sing to me, stranger, and...
I have the worst timing. Ever. What am I supposed to do? A romantic sunset followed by a candle-lit dinner? We have no candles, and no sun anymore. But I guess I should have tried to do it before she lost her other hand. It’s hard to be...
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