I say yes, my newspaper is running an entire series on the road people, as we call them in the oases. We are interviewing a crosscut of the entire road society—merchants, arbiters, enforcers, gatherers, hunters, new parents, even children. Why they choose to walk. What they think of the Wandering Woman. Do they believe she is real?
Read MoreBehind Her, Trailing Like Butterfly Wings
The hand-drawn map Fremgen had mailed me was crude, and obviously not to scale, so it was a little like following a treasure map made by a pirate with a spatial perception disorder.
Read MoreThe Dude Who Collected LovecraftMarcus knows: underpasses lie in wait, stalking lonely pedestrians whose disappearance would not be noticed by the passers-by. And once an underpass captures its victim, it never lets go. At first one wouldn’t even notice that anything is wrong. They’d walk on and on, barely registering that the underpass seems longer than usual. Then they’d realize that there is no exit ahead. They’d turn around and see only darkness.
Read MoreUntilted
Her whole body emitted a soft yellow light. Wherever cracks of skin showed through the mud, she blazed. She looked as if the sun itself burned within her; like goddess Usha at dawn.
Read MoreAn Unexpected BoonIt was hot. The kind of hot that would make the devil himself pull out a fan. Everywhere Mauve looked was blurry, either from heat rising off the pavement, sweat dripping in his eyes, or an uncomfortable combination of both. It was hot and Salisbury Steakhouse and Petting ZooTM was lying.
Read MoreThe Case of the Mysterious MeatThistle stood with her back to him, all curve and joy, a plum-skinned promise of delight. He tried to follow her, but his feet wouldn’t move. With each step forward he kept stumbling backward, as if his body wanted, needed to withdraw every footstep, to retrace their path under that lone glimmering star.
Read MoreTree of the Forest Seven Bells Turns the World Round MidnightFrom beyond the ghetto walls come the peal of church bells; pure and clear, clear and pure the sound fills the night above the ghetto, and Shomer and the children stop and listen to it, spellbound in their captivity.
Read MoreMy Struggle
Lately it’s been the aliens. Ralph won’t let it go, which is another reason I don’t say anything about mine. Mike asks him if they inserted anything into his orifices—Mike watches all that stuff on the History Channel—and Ralph says no.
Read MorePenelope WaitsThe iron heated quickly, and in a series of motions as artful as any he’d performed on the orchestral podium he pulled it from the fire with one hand, squeezed her forearm hard to force her fingers open with the other, and jabbed the glowing red tip of the poker into her exposed palm.
Read MoreWhile the Black Stars Burn