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A woman with no memory wakes up in a city with no history. The city is alive. Among skyscrapers of flesh and bridges of bone, Kora hunts for her identity and for the forbidden food she craves: a predator and prey at once.Read More →

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Jimi awoke, moving only her eyes. It was something she learned from Lonny.  He called it pulling together the threads of your life before you start moving around.  It’s a focusing thing. She reviewed what she could do this day to make her dreams come true.  Life is more manageableRead More →

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I slip into the confessional booth and sit down on the pale green cushion. It’s a peaceful place redolent of oiled wood, clean old ladies, and thousands of years of tradition. On my right, where the outline of a priest will appear, is a beautiful screen of elaborately carved woodenRead More →

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Neville Schroeder was a fireplug. He stood barely five feet tall, red, shabby, and pedestrian. Professor Connelly towered over him, a giant oak tree of a man with a silk paneled vest, tweed coat and tie, expensive glasses, and a neatly trimmed beard.Read More →

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We were to start at noon. The impatient crowd which pressed around the enclosed space, filling the enclosed square, overflowing into the contiguous streets, and covering the houses from the ground-floor to the slated gables, presented a striking scene.Read More →

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The Moreot, Katusthius Ziani, travelled wearily, and in fear of its robber-inhabitants, through the pashalik of Yannina; yet he had no cause for dread.Read More →

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“Listen to me,” said the Demon as he placed his hand upon my head. “The region of which I speak is a dreary region in Libya, by the borders of the river Zaire. And there is no quiet there, nor silence.”Read More →

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It was on the first day of the new year that the announcement was made, almost simultaneously from three observatories, that the motion of the planet Neptune, the outermost of all the planets that wheel about the sun, had become very erratic. Ogilvy had already called attention to a suspected retardation in its velocity in December. Read More →

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There was, until a year ago, a little and very grimy-looking shop near Seven Dials, over which, in weather-worn yellow lettering, the name of “C. Cave, Naturalist and Dealer in Antiquities,” was inscribed. The contents of its window were curiously variegated.Read More →

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This story is of a time beyond the memory of man, before the beginning of history, a time when one might have walked dryshod from France (as we call it now) to England, and when a broad and sluggish Thames flowed through its marshes to meet its father Rhine, flowing through a wide and level country that is under water in these latter days, and which we know by the name of the North Sea.Read More →

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This story is of a time beyond the memory of man, before the beginning of history, a time when one might have walked dryshod from France (as we call it now) to England, and when a broad and sluggish Thames flowed through its marshes to meet its father Rhine, flowing through a wide and level country that is under water in these latter days, and which we know by the name of the North Sea.Read More →

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His name was George McWhirter Fotheringay—not the sort of name by any means to lead to any expectation of miracles—and he was clerk at Gomshott’s. He was greatly addicted to assertive argument. It was while he was asserting the impossibility of miracles that he had his first intimation of his extraordinary powers.Read More →