As I was preparing for class, Lois Blaylock, a fellow member of the English department, burst into my office looking like she had just caught the dean in a compromising position with a chicken. She had been my mentor through… Continue Reading
Professor Henri Dubois materialized behind a rock outcropping. Dizzy and disoriented, he fought the urge to throw up. His wrist tracker said October 9, 1578. A half hour until the auto retrieval yanked him back to Carlton University in 21st… Continue Reading
Across the face of every freshman streaming into the lecture hall on the fall semester’s first day was the same unspoken question: “Am I in the right class?” Professor Bill Meriwether had every intention of answering that question — just… Continue Reading
A fly buzzed around my head as I strode down the corridor leading from the chapter house to the quad. The sun shone though the Gothic windows patterning the concrete floor. My oxblood Doc Martens chose only the sunlit squares.… Continue Reading
Please don’t let the door bang, Prof.! Sorry, can’t talk. Or move. Slightest twitch and things will fall apart. Thank goodness you always seem to read my mind. Wanted so much to tell you all about it. This four-by-four-foot sheet… Continue Reading
She’d rather it was a tumor. Rachel drove her hands deep into the cool meat. When she squeezed her hands tight, she felt the soft thickness work through and surround her fingers. She set one hand free and cracked an… Continue Reading
Miriam examined the canvas from different angles. Perfect? Almost perfect? What would her old teacher think? Half an hour later, she nodded to acquaintances as she crossed the banquet hall. Then, seeing Tostermann at a distant table, she changed direction.… Continue Reading
Dr. Perkins was halfway through a small hotdog wrapped in cheese and bacon when the question came up. “So, what do you do?” The woman had jet black hair tied up in a bun, indicative of the pseudo-Chinese fashion the… Continue Reading
Le Saloon de Chocolate. It’s a little shop in the empty-calorie heartland suburb where I grew up. Clearly the owners never learned proper French, though they have a space in the upscale mall, the one with more pretensions than the… Continue Reading
Carrying the water-stained box of wineglasses he had found under a stack of Bach Bimonthly in the basement, Simon stepped into the cramped galley kitchen of the decaying townhouse N.C. State University provided him and his wife, Tara. He’d hoped for… Continue Reading