These Long Nights: Conversing with the Red Queen

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.


The cell was small and stone. Although the occupant was a thin woman, her presence filled the room to overflowing. I could feel it in the hallway. I set my chair down just out of arms reach from the thick iron bars, removed my hat and sat down. I smoothed my hair back. Across from me a woman with a hard gray eye stared at me, unblinking.

Despite myself, I opened with my need. “Is Professor Francis still alive?”

I had to get some sleep soon.

She laughed. “Poor little Maxim. The Jew with the Roman name.”

I stiffened. “Don't toy with me, woman.”

She flared up. “I'm more than a woman: a leader, a prophet. Both male and female, the Umbral Phoenix straddles life and death.”

“Leader? Your ex-humans aren't doing well under your 'leadership'. More are captured or killed each day. The other day both the Iceman and the Beast fell in a police raid.”

“Thugs!” A pause. “Not Louis. He was just a boy.”

“He was as cold as they come. You made him a killer.”

“HE WAS A BOY!”

“He was. Today, he's a corpse. An obituary.”


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Robert Quick

Robert Quick

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