I finally put up some of my short fiction. These are all stories I have reason to feel proud of, and which, I think it is safe to say, are relatively obscure.
"The Fury at Colonus" is the Oresteia told as a police procedural, with a Fury as the weary detective. "Fragments of a Painted Eggshell" is about memory as art, and the issues of good people who, for one reason or another, are just not good parents. "Market Report" is exactly that: why are people in this particular suburb turning to the Pleistocene for their entertainment?