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Six Stories
She got her dogs and some tough little kids after me, and I was forced back to the highway. I can’t prove this, but I felt there were rifles aimed right at me.
March 1979When It Is Right With The World
Father put his arms around his ebullient brood. “Hush,” he soothed. “There is no wind and it is too dark to see. The kite will fly when it is ready. We shall go to bed and wait until it is right with the world.”
March 1979Man, Videtan Flora, And The Berendora Of Equatorial Videt
“Dangling in his face was a single stem of the graceful foliage of the Eighteenth Species. He saw then that he could not hold back, and yet must risk doing terrible damage to the crowning floral creation of the Universe. He crept forward in an agony of joy and terror.”
February 1979Vision In Black
And cope. I was to hear that again and again. It was multi-faceted, that word. It meant endurance, it expressed discipline — a psychological gymnastics involving stretching, reaching, bending, stooping, doing whatever was necessary to maintain the standards.
December 1978The Horseman Of Marrakech
I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision. I looked closely once again to make sure. I could barely see the tall shape prancing in and out of the traffic. I squinted through the haze and then knew I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. “Yes,” I said to myself, “he thinks he’s a horse.”
December 1978Memoirs Of A Professional Killer
Some Sea Stories From The Big Deuce
Once they gave a war, and everybody came. They called it World War II, and the entire basis of this essay is that one man’s recollections of it — necessarily different from every other man’s — are worth preserving.
October 1978Byron And The Owl
Byron was born and raised in the City, but he was very unhappy there. He went to work every day in an office with bright lights and soft furniture, and though the people he worked with always seemed to have fun, he was usually unhappy. “I feel out of place,” he’d say, and he’d dream of the forests, rivers, and skies he had seen on camping trips to the mountains.
October 1978Stories
Hitched to the University of the South at Sewannee, Tennessee. School was out and there were few people around — my last visit I stayed at Beta Phi fraternity — so checked it out again — no one around, but back door conveniently open, so I made myself at home.
July 1978Research And Other Disasters
Parapsychology, like every other science, is in the business of doing research. At least as important as research, if not moreso, is publishing. . . . These folks are serious. It’s the right thing to do, of course. If they don’t take themselves seriously, who will? . . . What follows is a parody of the type of article typically found in one of the parapsychological journals, or in any scientific journal.
February 1978On The Astral Plane To Puerto Rico
I, Arthur Milstein, have had a shitty life. I have found difficulty finding gainful employment. I most recently had a position carving names on gravestones, but I was dismissed owing to poor spelling. I usually spell well but not under intense pressure.
December 1977Request a free trial, and we’ll mail you a print copy of this month’s issue. Plus you’ll get full online access — including 50 years of archives. Request A Free Issue