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Transit in B-Flat
A night club musician gets an offer to play a really late gig, a gig offered by an event manager "with three letters in his name and an envelope full of bills." The musician needs the money, so he goes ... just a tad farther than he expected.
Short story, science fiction, about 5000 words. Perfect for that long coffee in a quiet corner.
Excerpt:
When I got back to the dressing room, a guy I didn't know was sitting in my chair. He got up when I entered, and in the glare of the vanity lights I could see his skinny frame holding up a double-breasted pin-stripe with a solid navy tie. In his hands he gripped a fedora that screamed speakeasy and Old Movie Cliché. I looked around for a violin case and a Tommy Gun. I didn't see either.
Excerpt:
She had a night table that looked like the Manhattan skyline done in small orange bottles. With luck, the stacked pharmaceuticals might give her a few extra months.
Excerpt:
I played the sets just as I had played them in Chicago. Same songs, same intonations, same very-subtle bends and rubatos in the places where I knew they would tug at the mind and at the heart.
Dix seemed to know what I was doing, too. When he got me for my breaks, he looked like a skeleton that had gone for a peel-and-bleach.
Take the Transit. And don't forget the coffee. --JE
Short story, science fiction, about 5000 words. Perfect for that long coffee in a quiet corner.
Excerpt:
When I got back to the dressing room, a guy I didn't know was sitting in my chair. He got up when I entered, and in the glare of the vanity lights I could see his skinny frame holding up a double-breasted pin-stripe with a solid navy tie. In his hands he gripped a fedora that screamed speakeasy and Old Movie Cliché. I looked around for a violin case and a Tommy Gun. I didn't see either.
Excerpt:
She had a night table that looked like the Manhattan skyline done in small orange bottles. With luck, the stacked pharmaceuticals might give her a few extra months.
Excerpt:
I played the sets just as I had played them in Chicago. Same songs, same intonations, same very-subtle bends and rubatos in the places where I knew they would tug at the mind and at the heart.
Dix seemed to know what I was doing, too. When he got me for my breaks, he looked like a skeleton that had gone for a peel-and-bleach.
Take the Transit. And don't forget the coffee. --JE
20 pages, Kindle Edition
Published February 8, 2016
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March 18, 2017As the author, all I'll say is that I wanted to write an SF piece without ray guns, tentacles and splattered protoplasm.
Not that there's anything necessarily wrong with ray guns, tentacles, and splattered protoplasm, you understand ...
Update 3/11/2016: TIBF just got its first review on Amazon, all 5 stars by a reader who compared me to "early Ray Bradbury." Ray Bradbury. There's worse company. :)
Not that there's anything necessarily wrong with ray guns, tentacles, and splattered protoplasm, you understand ...
Update 3/11/2016: TIBF just got its first review on Amazon, all 5 stars by a reader who compared me to "early Ray Bradbury." Ray Bradbury. There's worse company. :)
Displaying 1 of 1 review