The inspiration: A story: “Want to dance?” She had spotted him through the gym doors. Others made fun of his silence, bowed head and shuffling gait. But she had math with him, watching him when he didn’t know. He was no dummy. She moved closer, put her hands on his shoulders. “No one can see us out here. It’s a slow dance, easy.” He looked up, his cornflower-blue eyes alight

The inspiration: A story: The sun warmed, the breeze caressed, filled with heady scents of earth and green, growing things. One foot in front the other, for uncounted hours. Or none. She really didn’t know. Her feet had lead while she marveled at quiet, the fields, the flawless sky and the fact that the pain was gone. She stopped. Now there was a memory she didn’t know she had until

The inspiration: A story: “Carpentry?” “No.” “Farming?” “No.” “Hunting?” “God, no.” He looked up from his list, pale eyes hooded by bushy grey brows. She fidgeted under the cool, hard regard. He glanced down “Any experience with fibers or cloth? Spinning, weaving, sewing?” “No.” She sniffed, “I am a tenured professor in Gender & Women Studies and …” “WAS,” he interrupted, “In case you haven’t noticed, the majority of your

The inspiration: A story: He wintered on the porch, watching the angry grey ocean. Summers he retreated into his tiny cottage, trading the view for a book, avoiding the summer people. Her first summer, she waved at him each time she passed. The second, he learned to wave back. He endured that winter, the ocean a distant second to his thoughts of her. For the first time since he returned

The inspiration: A story: “Sarah, meet your baby brother.” She smiled at the small being at her side, loved him instantly, whispering to him “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you. Cross my heart!” Sarah bravely protected him from closet monsters, later coaching him through algebra and offering him insight into the female brain (which confused him more than algebra). Caught up in a life she refused to share,

The inspiration: A story: Ferreting out and seeking the forbidden was something she had done, often recklessly, since her first memory. Part of her nature, her tutors, even her Key-yu, sought to strengthen it while teaching her to control and become wise in its use. So there was no excuse of ignorance to why she came to this place, to giving in to the implacable call. They knew too and

The inspiration: A story: You’ve had that dream, right, where you’re standing in front of class and realize you’re naked? Liar. Everyone has those dreams. Remember my ex-wife? Our divorce so wonderfully civil I moved five states away and haven’t seen her for three years? Guess who showed at the faculty end-of-term soiree last night on the arm of that dweeb teaching, Decadent Modernity, or some nonsense. I’m staring; she’s

The inspiration: A story, It started with a whisper in the King’s ear. “Beware, your Highness, death arrives with dear familiarity.” The King made a show of complete indifference to the M’lak, Oreel, a contemptuous flick of one bejeweled hand to dismiss the monk from court. Yet he sought to find the threat, doubling the guard, recruiting spies, and sly testing of friend and family. Was a door left unlocked,