I genuinely don't know what's gotten into me these last few days. What I should be doing is completing Eleanor. What I've done instead is write and publish four new short stories in less than ten days.
Well, here's another. It's called The Dark Age, and it's on Amazon now for just 99 cents.
This one's exceptionally personal. I was a bawling mess as I wrote it – and I wrote it in my Jeep where nobody could see me, if you can believe that – and tonight when I read it to Felicia, I couldn't get through it. It's dedicated to our daughter, who isn't allowed to read it until she's older. (Daddy writes bad words.)
Here's the official synopsis:
On the day she was born, he left for the stars.
He watches her grow up on screens. Misses her first words. Misses her first steps. She's never kissed his scratchy cheek, or fallen asleep on his shoulder. He's never wiped away her tears, or sung her to sleep.
Now she's a toddler, and he's about to enter hibernation sleep -- and when he wakes nearly 150 years in the future, his family will be gone.
This is a short story for every father who never wants his daughter to grow up.
Rough, right? Or maybe it's just me.
This book also has special meaning inasmuch that it's a reminder to myself of something that's beyond important – but that's a short story for another post. I'll try to share it today or tomorrow.