“ARE YOU ALRIGHT?” HE ASKED from behind his newspaper. She thought, I have never been alright a day in my life. None of us have. We see too much — think too much — don’t act enough — enchained by…
Category: Writing
My own serious stuff; the craft itself; those who inspire me in it; the art of reading.
The Poet
HE COULDN’T TELL WHETHER HE loved beauty or women more until the day he called his mom and said “Guess what? I’m marrying a sunset.”
Prosatio Silban and the Comedic Situation
IT ALL BEGAN WHEN Prosatio Silban leapt forward. “Look out!” he bellowed, grabbing the careless man’s belt and yanking him back from the edge of the algae-slick dock. “Blessed All-Mother!” the man exclaimed, straightening. “You saved me life!” Prosatio Silban…
Fable, With Apocalypse
IN THE MIDDLE OF A flat grey wasteland, under a grey streaky sky, a handful of figures warm themselves at a snapping fire. “Hey! What are you doing?” One of the figures has turned to gape across the waste: a…
Prosatio Silban and the Plain Truth
EVEN WHEN HOSPITALITY PROFFESSIONALS ARE “off the clock,” their discourse – like that of the other trades – can’t help but revolve around their livelihoods. “How’s this for a topic?” asked Piriforma Syndro, head chef at epicurean Pormaris’ renowned Diamond…
Prosatio Silban and the Secondhand Saga
IT IS A LONG-SAID saying, and with good reason: “Workers are only as good as their tools.” Prosatio Silban lifted down yet another old pot from the galleywagon’s ceiling-mounted rack, placed it among its fellows in an empty durian-crate, dropped…
Prosatio Silban and the Perfect Colleague
TRYING TO HOLD A CANDLE to someone else is the quickest way to extinguish your own flickering flame. “And then the High Sacreant herself complimented me on yet another job well done,” Egotio Nys said, lifting his expensive drink and…
Prosatio Silban and the Blank Tyranny
ARTISTRY IN ONE ARENA DOES not always guarantee artistry in another. “My proposal is a simple one,” the young man said. “Grant your endorsement, in a few choice words, of my latest cookbook, New Tastes of Pormaris. It is a…
Prosatio Silban and the Free Lunch
IF SOMETHING COMES FROM NOTHING, is it worth the price? Prosatio Silban sighed, and not for the first time that day. How did I come to this? he asked himself. I used to be more thrifty with my pantry and…
Ozone; or, The Horror Upstairs
WHEN A MAN HAS GIVEN his life to science, even to the naked edge of that science, he is expected to be vocal about it. And if others choose not to listen, well … perhaps they won’t have the nightmares,…
Stellar Blues
do the stars know the names by which we call them? we, the hubristic and temporary, label the unthinkably ancient with quick mouth sounds and fading pen-scratches. will they mourn when we are gone? would they say: “nice try, two-legs;…
Prosatio Silban and the Proxy Diner
SOMETIMES, “HUNGER” IS JUST ANOTHER word for “desperation.” Prosatio Silban heaved a sigh and pondered his bleak future. How does this keep happening? he asked himself. How do my circumstances seem to always drop so low? To be fair, it…