I have finished revamping my science fiction short story Feet First! A few people have volunteered to be beta readers (I am looking for more!) Also, I became a member of the Critters Workshop, an on-line workshop/critique group for serious Science Fiction/Fantasy/Horror writers. Some other writers will critique my work, and I will critique their work in return!

In a few weeks, I plan to self-publish this new short story! I’ll keep you posted.

Below is the cover page (the illustration was designed by Chris Caswell) and an excerpt of the story (Oh no! Not a teaser!)😉

Excerpt:

Stanley’s growing procrastination to fix things that needed fixing around the house was the source of countless arguments between him and Violette, his wife.

She demanded.

He refused.

They argued.

She won.

Except today, Stanley had enough.

“Why haven’t you replaced it yet?”

Undisturbed by his wife’s annoying question, the seventy‑five year-old man continued reading the daily news on his holographic newspaper while chewing on a mouthful of blueberry bagel.

She added, “It’s been burnt for three weeks already. The staircase gets very dark and I’m afraid to come downstairs at night because of that.”

Why? Why in hell does she need to go downstairs right in the middle of the night?  he asked himself.

She added, with a sharp tone, “Stanley, are you listening to me? I want you to replace the light bulb today!”

No more do this, do that, he thought, I’ll change the bloody thing when I’ll feel like it. Period.

“And you’re going to use the anti‑gravity platform to do it—you haven’t used it once yet!”

The old man ended his mutism. “Which platform?” he asked, innocently.

She frowned. “Stanley, don’t play silly with me! You know damn well which platform I’m talking about.” Of course he knew; she had bought it for his last birthday. But he had sworn he would never use the stupid gadget. He hated being lifted up weightlessly into the air without touching the floor. It made him feel nauseous.

Adding oil to the burning fire, Violette pursued, “I sure hope you’re going to use it instead of that antique of yours! The piece of junk is so old. I really wonder why you’re so fussy about using it all the time. That thing is not safe; it could break at any time!”

Ooooh. A direct impact to his manly pride. She was unmistakably referring to his wooden stepladder he had inherited from his father. Almost instantly, his entire body went into battle mode. His family heirloom was under attack. Retaliation was inevitable.

“It may be an antique, but it’s a damn valuable one!”

Glaring at his wife, he continued, “My great grandfather built it himself with his bare hands. He was a great carpenter, the best of this time!”

Violette rolled her eyes.

Stanley continued, “This stepladder has been in my family for over 150 years now. You really want me to get rid of it, don’t you? Well—keep dreaming, ‘cause it ain’t gonna happen!” As he finished his sentence, he slammed his fist hard on the table. His holographic newspaper flickered under the impact. Violette was startled, eyes wide open.

“This discussion is over!” barked Stanley.

Violette sprung up and left the kitchen, furious.

The man of the house had spoken.

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