She was trying to hold something, gathering in … lips blue/ black, saying: “I’m all right.” I remember her telling me, over the phone one time: “It’s a baby rabbit, and he was having a picnic. He was chewing away and chewing away. I had six tomato pla

The Time Traveler had been gone but a minute, when Filby, combing his fingers through his ginger hair, turned to the Psychologist and proclaimed, “That’s the last we shall see of him.”

Transhumanism has always had its malcontents usually derived from some philosophic contestation, but for all their thought experiments, somehow my present situation eluded them.

He stood in the doorway of his mother's house. The doorway that separated the living room from the kitchen. Out of habit, he picked at the wallpaper. He had done this for years as a kid. Anytime a corner pulled up, he started tugging. Just a…

Another subject of interest is "furverts"--"individuals who engage in sexual activity while dressed in animal costumes."

Kenichi the boar arrived from the forest with the other elders. The police officers stepped back, awed by these large nature creatures.

You want to be Teilhard de Chardin? You’re getting started way too late. There’s a better chance you’ll be tomorrow’s Peking Man if I bury you in the cellar.

Ben watched Monique disappear into the first-class cabin. It didn’t seem likely that he would see her again after this flight.

They say nothing, but instead watch the birds and people hovering. Every day is an echo of the one before, and the weight of waiting has begun to show itself in the stature of the tiny man and his little old wife. …

She looked at the flowerthat grew through the stone hedgeon a cliffwhere the rockswere stacked to the edge of the water.It was a polka dot spot of fuchsia, Petals peeking through the green briar bush.On the bridge,Staring hard at the deep water,Ripples of blue that…

I leave the 29 to go after the 1

I’d caught a small fish but there wasn't enough room on the bridge to reel it in completely so I carried it hanging from my pole along the edge of the traffic A fine black dog joined me following me into the shack at the end of the bridg

Sometimes I think our gathering is a ritual centered on collective visualization. Other times I feel like I have been physically transported. I am not sure there is a difference.

Before the new arm, I used to sit outside the players' facility and wonder, in between the throbs of pain pulsing sickly through my temples, how much longer I could be a hockey player.

His senses were heightened. The scratching on the table with his finger nails, intense nervousness, the noise magnified every second, the ball point pen was piercing into his sweaty palm.