Short Story: Side Effect

“I think I’ll call it a day”, Springthorpe announced. “Nothing new tonight anyway.” Nobody answered, which annoyed him. Peter Springthorpe was, as they say, going down on the fast track, or so it seemed to him, at least. He hadn’t been very successful recently, and he had a feeling that if he didn’t do something about it pretty soon, he wouldn’t be for some time in the future either.

Short Story: City’s Dust

He lived. In a way this was the strangest thing of all. He had felt coming alive gradually, as a light, thin, slightly greasy substance had settled on his body. Had it been dust? No, too – well, humid. But not water either. It had been too dry for water. Anyway, there he was, with his newly found consciousness, wondering what he was doing out in the cold at night looking at a semi-high wall and a little park beyond it. In front of the wall he saw a pair of railroad tracks leading to a tunnel somewhere to his left. No; he was in a city, he felt, so these had to be streetcar tracks.