It was first published in 1984, in KNAVE and was my third published short story. It was reprinted in 1993 ANGELS AND VISITATIONS (although I didn't put it into Smoke and Mirrors) and it's been collected in anthologies a few times since then. --NG

    Unfortunately, the way home isn't as clear-cut as he'd hoped and he's forced to turn to Aria, his GPS, for an alternate route. However, Aria has something far more sinister in mind...

    Hamilton has proven himself a modern master of epic space opera, carrying the tradition of far-future empire building begun by Heinlein and Asimov into the new millennium. But Hamilton is also a master of the short story, and when he tackles one of science fiction’s most enduring themes—time travel—the result is as provocative as it is entertaining. It starts in 2007 with a break-in. The victim: Marcus Orthew, the financial and technological genius behind Orthanics, the computer company whose radical products have delivered a one-two punch to the industry, all but knocking PCs and Macs out of the ring. The perpetrator: a man obsessed with Orthew. Just another simple case of celebrity stalking—or so everyone assumes at first, including Metropolitan Police Chief Detective David Lanson. But when Lanson interviews the suspect, he makes a startling claim: Orthew is from the future. Or, rather, a future—a parallel timeline. Thus begins the ride of a lifetime for Lanson, as his pursuit of the facts tumbles him headlong down a rabbit hole—and the hunter finds himself hunted.

    

    Investigating the incident in his typically direct manner, Carrot Ironfoundersson discovers the truth...

    THE ACCIDENTAL HERO (A Digital Short)A ruthless hitman confronts his destiny in a startling tale of redemption.

    Betrayed by his employer and left for dead, Kovac decides to lie low in Tokyo.His plan? Revenge...But when a young woman asks him to protect her from the yakuza, Kovac feels duty-bound to help. She’s a victim of abuse, and long experience tells him if he doesn’t step in tonight she’ll be a corpse before dawn.As Kovac works to uncover the truth of his last job, he finds himself drawn into a conspiracy which goes well beyond the yakuza to a new and terrifying multinational cartel. One that will stop at nothing to control the global drug trade.The kingpins are certain they’ve covered all bases. They're well-funded and utterly ruthless. But they’ve failed to account for one man – John Kovac.SHADOW KILL is the first in a fast-paced, unflinching thriller series that won't in any way shortchange you on action. Perfect for fans of Lee Child, Mark Greaney and Mark Dawson.

    A collection of fifteen blue-collar stories, period and contemporary—1866 through the present.

    The Chief of the Abteilung KDA is disturbed to learn that the Nightingale has taken on an apprentice.Moments is a term used by Ben Aaronovitch for very short works of fiction, that he doesn't like to call short stories. He adds that they are not likely to be incorporated into any longer work.

    Previously a homicide cop, he drank his way out of a job and now runs a one-man private eye agency finding people who don’t want to be found. He doesn’t accept tough-guy assignments, calling himself a “soft-boiled detective,” but a recession is on, and business is off, so when a wealthy financier, formerly a mob enforcer, needs an anonymous blackmailer found in a life and death situation, Stanley seizes the chance to earn a fee.If he fails, the blackmailer outs his client to the wise guys, in which case the client gets a one-way ticket to the landfill, and Stanley risks becoming an unwilling passenger on that ride. He knows he must not fail, no small feat given that Stanley Bentworth is not all that tough.

    It was first published in the March 1967 issue of IF: Worlds of Science Fiction.It won a Hugo Award in 1968. The name was also used for a short story collection of Ellison's work, featuring this story. It was recently reprinted by the Library of America, collected in volume two (Terror and the Uncanny, from the 1940s to Now) of American Fantastic Tales (2009).

    Binny has four hours to make Christmas happen and she couldn’t feel less like wishing glad tidings of good will to all men – least of all to Oliver. It is raining, her house is falling apart, the streets are jammed with people and it is all Oliver’s fault. Darting into a shop to escape a conversation, Binny finds herself in the sort of place she would never normally visit. But in amongst the shelves is a surprising source of peace.A beautiful gem of a short story from Rachel Joyce, bestselling author of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry and Perfect The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy.

    Sheila O'Flanagan has captivated millions of readers with novels like SUDDENLY SINGLE, IF YOU WERE ME and THINGS WE NEVER SAY, and in this delightful ebook she invites us in for a glimpse of her world...Pop over with a cup of tea (or a glass of wine!) and share all the exciting, scary (and slightly nutty) moments of life as a writer.Includes:IT'S NOT HOW YOU IMAGINE IT - A WRITER'S LIFEFAMILY PARTIES - AND HOW TO SURVIVE THEMA Q&A WITH THE AUTHORA SHORT STORYAnd the very special first chapter of MY MOTHER'S SECRETNOT A NOVEL - more a really good gossip!

    The only catch is that she has to look after a pet dog in exchange for board.She soon finds herself trying to juggle auditions, the demise of a long-term relationship and a blossoming fling, all whist hiding a sinister secret concealed within her suitcase.

    Anti-Gerasone halts the aging process and prevents people from dying of old age as long as they keep taking it; as a result, America now suffers from severe overpopulation and shortages of food and resources. With the exception of the very wealthy, most of the population appears to survive on a diet of foods made from processed seaweed and sawdust. Gramps Ford, his chin resting on his hands, his hands on the crook of his cane, was staring irascibly at the five-foot television screen that dominated the room. On the screen, a news commentator was summarizing the day's happenings. Every thirty seconds or so, Gramps would jab the floor with his cane-tip and shout, "Hell, we did that a hundred years ago!" Emerald and Lou, coming in from the balcony, where they had been seeking that 2185 A.D. rarity--privacy--were obliged to take seats in the back row, behind about a dozen relatives with whom they shared the house. All save Gramps, who was somewhat withered and bent, seemed, by pre-anti-gerasone standards, to be about the same age--somewhere in their late twenties or early thirties. Gramps looked older because he had already reached 70 when anti-gerasone was invented. He had not aged in the 102 years since. "Next one shoots off his big bazoo while the TV's on is gonna find hisself cut off without a dollar--" his voice suddenly softened and sweetened--"when they wave that checkered flag at the Indianapolis Speedway, and old Gramps gets ready for the Big Trip Up Yonder." He sniffed sentimentally, while his heirs concentrated desperately on not making the slightest sound. For them, the poignancy of the prospective Big Trip had been dulled somewhat, through having been mentioned by Gramps about once a day for fifty years.