The story I was writing, for which I blew off blogging a couple of nights, is finished. The title I settled on is Dream For No Reason At All. I was going to post it here, because it’s very short. Most of my stories are. But I think I’m going to try something different with this: not posting it.

I’m going to very carefully not post it, and see if that causes any sort of shift in the universe. If I could see the stars tonight, I could go out and watch after I don’t post it, and see if one of them maybe turns blue. Imagine that. But my sense is that absolutely nothing will be different.

If you want to read it, let me know. Because doggone it, life forms in the world are supposed to interact. No man is an island. The bell tolls for thee. Let profligate biology rise up and wave a misbegotten paw in the shril dialectic exhaust. Or something.

Mean time, here’s a little piece:

There is something he needs, must have. Something. Down there, where the night, blown black with rain and dripping darkness, disappears. He moves on. Can’t imagine what it could be. Must have it, though, and moves down the street, catching glimpses through the ash covered windows, of broken furniture caked in dust.