Some time ago, I started writing a short story, which at that point was titled “The Lake in the Library”. In its nebulous first lines, it featured a librarian, a library, and a lake in that library. Oh, and a lake monster of some sort.
Later, I had more ideas for the story, and a theme came to me like a bolt from the blue. I excised the lake and the lake monster, not without regret. (There’s no guarantee they won’t reappear; the story is very dreamy, in the literal sense of the word.)
Continue reading “Who is the Black Beast?”
I hammered out 1,100 words, give or take, in “Summertime in the Void”, which is a new short story about a man left behind by the Singularity.
Here’s a sample, but be kind, it’s first draft material:
His dad, not long before he left, had told John that you can’t ever cross the same river twice, and John had asked why not and his dad had just smiled and told him “You’re smart, figure it out.”
Because the water’s never the same, he decided. Sometimes it’s swift and deep, and sometimes—like now, after a long, hot, dry summer—it was shallow, lazy, and muddy.
I’ve got about 3,900 more words to make this into a coherent story. I think I can make it work.