Before there was any paper to write stories or poems, legends and history, or myths and parables, oral tradition was the platform to storytelling. And in these stories, the voice was a remarkable device.
It was a time before self-consciousness,
a time before Australopithecus. No Piltdown Man,
Neanderthal, nil. Is it Homo Sapiens
that depends what it is when wisdom ends?
Late in hyperbolic wonder
wanders a tall and ragged
wretch who through the muddy
Even the moon cries in the bowels of night
when it’s full of empty shadows. Where?
Where have all the children gone? Alleys
always hide their dead in dumpsters.
All creatures great and small
Changed our hearts.
Their furs or paws
Imprinted our flesh like tattoos,
A fine selection of fantasy and science fiction short stories. Read and enjoy!
“But…” She wriggled in his grasp, but her hands already ached resisting his efforts. “The Samarians are rude, Sam. I don’t do foreigners, and the Captain’s supposed to greet dignitaries.”
“Nearly two hundred years! That’s how long my family has made the finest ravioli in Ravenna, if not all of Venice. A newcomer can’t best me, unless he uses magic.”
My eyelids twitch to cover the dried pits of their sockets—a familiar sensation and a useless one.
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