K. Marvin Bruce

An external disk crash is a tragedy.  You see, my computer doesn't have much memory.  The little it has is claimed by the increasing size of the operating system at each update.  I back my files up on a WD terabyte drive. The drive failed this week.  Although I hope to get the contents recovered, the remaining chapters of The Space between Atoms reside on that drive.  In fact, the thousands of pieces of my writing yet unpublished do. I don't trust the cloud.  How can you trust something where your files, like a Heisenbergian electron can't be precisely traced?  I like to know where my files are.  Right now they're nowhere.  The silly drive whirs and ticks like an electronic idiot, but it doesn't show where the files are. Data recovery, I've discovered, costs eight times the cost of a disk drive.  The lesson?  Buying half a dozen backup drives is cheaper.  If one disk fails your files are still somewhere. Months of my life went...

  Drew, Terah’s best friend at Grove City, tried to help.   “You only knew Wendy a week really.   How well can you really know someone in a week?” Deep inside Terah knew the wisdom of this.   Fred his stepfather had been kind to his three new tweenage children.   For about six months he pretended to be happy and carefree, joking and playing with the boys.   Then the mask fell.   Fred was a bitter and suspicious man.   When it was time to leave for college Terah was ready to go although Fred wouldn’t contribute a cent and Terah would be in debt forever.   Yes, he should’ve known a week wasn’t time to really know someone. He thought he knew Wendy.   Her glances, her words, her laughs all declared she was his.   At the very same time she was meeting Gary on the weekend.   Spending the night in his dorm room at Kent State.   Holding Terah’s hand but holding something else for Gary.   Even after she admitted as much and re...

  Nobody questioned why Terah didn’t show up again until the next gathering.   As unlikely as it seemed, life soon fell into a routine.   Terah’s leg healed.   He shared the tasks around Dickinsheet, and was elected the official chaplain.   It was odd.   He’d grown up with Bible-believing parents and had gone to college so he could become a minister.   His experience with Wendy wasn’t an obstacle in that regard since Methodist clergy married. Many people didn’t realize that Boston University School of Theology was the oldest component of the university—it had been founded to train clergy.   Even more didn’t know that it was a United Methodist seminary.   Terah had driven back to Boston, alone.   Wounds from Wendy still bleeding, he poured himself into his studies.   Graduated with high honors, but without ordination.   He was going to work on a doctorate.   His faculty advisors all saw the potential.   He’d never been...

  His breath clouding the air, Terah stood in the dark.   The sun shone green.   Green?   He glanced up, his mouth open in unbelief.   Hanging in the clear sky above him fluttered curtains of green light.   Slowly playing about as if a dreamy wind worried the troposphere, the lissome drapes were ethereal.   He’d seen plenty of pictures of the northern lights, but being bathed in them was altogether different.   A rational man, he knew it was silly, but he thought he could feel the faint play of their transient fabric on his face. “Unreal, ain’t it?”   How long had she been standing there?   He simply nodded.   “Look,” she said hardly above a whisper, “I think I need to explain a few things.   I know you were helpin’ Vince today.   Yesterday.   Whatever.   And I know what you’ve been thinkin’.   Not just since then, but since I let you in on my secret.   It’s not safe for me to come inside.   We can...

  The first night in his new house was sleepless.   Terah built up the fire a little.   Wendy had called him on the dorm phone, shared by all twelve of them in the hall.   “It’s over, Terah.” She said simply. “But why?   Is it something I did?” “No.   It’s not you.   It’s me.   There’s someone else.” “Gary.” “Yes.   It was Gary all along, but I didn’t have the heart to tell you.   I really like you, Terah.   I didn’t want to hurt you.   Good-bye.” The dark seemed alive.   That wasn’t the end of the Wendy affair, but he wondered if it was why he’d managed not to really fall in love again.   Until now.   He had to be honest with himself.   He was smitten with Lindsey.   As a grown man, he knew it was silly.   He’d had crushes before—as an adjunct professor he couldn’t help but notice the many stunning coeds in the classroom.   Danielle hadn’t been stunning, but she was pretty.   And she had...

  The gathering was the bastard child of a townhall and a party.   There was no drinking, but a strange joy pervaded having nothing and discussing everything.   When talk died out, singing began.   These people had a peace of mind Terah envied.   They were professionals discarded by society—each of them capable, but told there was no need for them.   They lived here without utilities, subsisting on pilfered food that wasn’t freshly made, and yet they celebrated.   He nevertheless wondered about the gorilla in the room, or rather, about the fire. The main business conducted centered on sending a party of two to get supplies and how to keep the wood stores replenished.   Missionary parties were sent out in twos to get food.   The nearest town was a three-hour walk, and it had a food pantry that was always the first stop.   There was a super Walmart there as well, which had driven other area stores out of business.   The giant chain ha...

  She was a few years younger, but the portrait was a nude Lindsey. Vince followed his gaze.   “Maybe not in the best taste, given our lifestyle, but to hide beauty is a lie of the vilest kind.” Terah had to know more about her.   “And Claresta consented?” “It was summer.   She’d been here quite a few months by then.   In fact, she was just about to leave.   I hadn’t had a live subject since my old life ended.” Terah’s heart was vibrating like a smartphone.   He knew he could ask no questions of her past life.   “Did you see her?” Vince nodded at the charcoal portrait, “Claresta?” “No.   The wood nymph.” “Ah, our spirit guide.   You know, that question rests on the boundary between our past lives—against the rules—and our lives here.   I don’t mind saying I did, though.   That disappearing road leading to Dickinsheet.   Although it’s overgrown and derelict, it’s beautiful.   I was just standing there thinking how if I...