Quark Space Travel

Here are some short stories in progress. They are very close to being final in most cases. Periodically, there may be revisions and new stories. Take a look at the brief description and pick out one or two you like. All stories are available as downloadable .pdf files.

Break Your Mother’s Back. Ever played that children’s game where you skip down the sidewalk, avoiding the cracks? Careful, something might happen!

Hello, Who’s There? Florida in the rainy summertime can be really noisy and dangerous. Strange things happen, what with all the lightning and thunder.

The Illusioneer. Feel trapped and unappreciated in a job? Is your profession dreary? There is a way out, but strangely, even colorfully, as you will see.

Full Tummy Dreams. Hungry? Are you a food fanatic? Careful what you eat! You can have some wild dreams.

La Chispa. When all seems lost, are there answers? Where do these answers lie? How do we find them? On the other hand, do they find us? This is one of my favorites!

Spinner. The world revolves on its axis, like a top. Can a man spin faster than a top? What makes him spin?

Fish Face Fools. This is the short story from which the play (see PLAYS link) was developed. It's sort of based on a fishing friend, a bunch of old Lake Tsala Apopka (Florida) neighbors, and myself.

The Big Recall. Quality control seems to be a problem for more than just technologically produced items. This is a satire of politics in Hillsborough County, Florida. Oh, My God!

Citrus White Gold. This short story was the basis for the late 1800s to early 1900s historical novel I am writing about Citrus County, Florida. You will see it in a semi-outline form (the underlined headings), primarily for time sequence orientation. Such will not be present in the actual novel.

Not Quite Closed, was submitted for review by the Tampa Writers Alliance critique group under the pen name of R. Claire Muller. It came about one day as I was taking an afternoon nap. Caught between sleep and being awake, my mind drifted to a thought: I wonder whether my sister Rosemary would have been a writer? If so, probably she would have been much better than I would if she had grown to adulthood, instead of dying a bit more than one month after being born.

A story began to form, out of nothingness. Jumping out of bed to my computer, I typed a rough draft, beginning to end. Then I inserted her name, changing the spelling of the last name and using only the initial “R” for her first name and her full middle name. In a way, I felt a bit deceptive; many of the other writers in the critique group were women. Would I, otherwise, have been judged as a male, impossibly telling a story of the heart?

The story was well received. The group moderator did not say who R. Claire Muller was, but said the writer would respond when all had made their oral comments. Much to everyone’s surprise, it was I. It was quite funny, what with one young woman even saying, “I wanted to meet this guy John, just to see him when I was single. I could have fallen in love with him!”