The empty, late afternoon was much brighter than yesterday. All was still, except for Welles in his roadster, kicking up the few remaining decaying leaves scattered amongst the gravel. Staring through the rearview mirror, he enjoyed watching the tires kick up whatever was loose on the road. He had turned off the loud music while exiting the highway. On this stretch, Welles preferred to hear the tires crunch.
Last night, the clouds stretched, as if attempting to capture some moments — but it was now time.
Not because of a decision of Welles, that was for sure, he thought. Last night’s sky was also the color of his thoughts. Welles knew that part of the reason why Veronica was born was because she belonged in the passenger seat of his obscene priced roadster motoring on roads to locales where roadsters should frequent. …
I was wandering through a particular neighborhood on my last day of a short vacation.
The keys were in the ignition. I know, I stopped and unsnapped the covering. The pristine white leather seats smelled of recent care. I saw my reflection on the hood, holding the only key on a sterling silver chain. The white house seemed occupied.
I knew where I wanted to joy ride. To that place where the tall grass and trees were bending in the furious first gusts of the front. …
In the near future, Quincy Lane dominates Celeb Culture worldwide. Why did she move to the Life Boat, a small unknown religious community serving the mentally incapacitated, run by a restless priest and his devoted psychiatrist? Soon the priest and psychiatrist are gone. The Life Boat residents have never heard of Quincy. The service robots are driving her crazy. Resident Tall Mary leads the worst woman rock band ever. The refugee Melkites from Syria arrive, and also the mysterious Galvin Salvus, whose fantastic claim unnerves Quincy. All combine to make the Life Boat an odd community in the new age, but strangely engaging.