A Short Story Is Like A Kiss

I Think It's Relatively Easy For People To Accept Something Like Telepathy Or Precognition Or Teleplasm Because Their Willingness To Believe Doesn't Cost Them Anything. It Doesn't Keep Them Awake Nights. But The Idea That The Evil That Men Do Lives After Them Is Unsettling.

Alone. Yes, That's The Key Word, The Most Awful Word In The English Tongue. Murder Doesn't Hold A Candle To It And Hell Is Only A Poor Synonym.

Everything Is Sort Of Built In A Way That To Me Suggests Intelligent Design. But At The Same Time, There's A Lot Of Things In Life Where You Say To Yourself, Well, If This Is God's Plan, It's Very Peculiar. And You Have To Wonder About That Guy's Personality, The Big Guy's Personality.

They Walked Back Into The World Together, Wearing The Gift That Had Been Given Them: Just Life. Pity Was Not Love, Barbie Reflected...but If You Were A Child, Giving Clothes To Someone Who Was Naked Had To Be A Step In The Right Direction.

I Like To End Stories Where The Readers Have A Little Room To Run. They Can Resolve Things As They Like In Their Own Mind.