A Rain of Frogs

A Rain of Frogs

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known...

Howdy, pilgrim

You have stumbled across a writer’s catchall and armamentarium of lost words―a cellar, if you will, stocked with last year’s sweet potatoes and next year’s onions plus a hopeful phrase or two. If you are a seeker after Truth, may we suggest a spiritual advisor, elsewhere. What I have conflated into these mini-memoirs are facts—mulled over, mulched and chewed, edited and sometimes flimsy, but facts of a sort nonetheless. And thanks for dropping in.

The blurbs and links at the bottom of the page are teasers and set to rotate daily. There’s an index to your right and here.

Our second compilation of tales is here: Platterland, nine stories and a novella. The current world-wide financial embarrassment has thinned the ranks of publishers—in the case of speculative fiction, never overcrowded. So I’m giving it away. The e-book, that is. At 348 pages in the print version, Platterland sells for $22.50 US or thereabouts. Platterland the trade paperback is available online, meanwhile, here’s a free Kindle download: the whole 366 pages, wrapped up in a Kindle-friendly package. Plays on MobiPocket, too. Wow.

A mission statement

“Ohh, mommy, look.” A mother and child studied the darkening sky. The young one was working hard at staying up later than usual, watching for a sign, hoping to stay up for another hour. A bright blossoming flared and faded past her finger's end. “A star exploding.” The woman had been a mother many times over many years. The night sky held no new wonders for her. The child had to think quickly. “A minute more, please. I am looking for the V of the eidolons.”

“Silly girl.” A pause. “What is an eidolon?” Eidolon. A new word from school. The little ones were ever bringing home new things; it was hard keeping up. The mother peered into the afterglow left by an expired galaxy.

“They are the wild flying pigs of time, unwinding the stars.”

—The Return of the Orange Virgin

 

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