"Light seeped through her eyelids and, though she wasn't quite awake, she could feel that she had a body, and that her body lived in the real world. The real world of pain."

  What if you awoke to discover you had been forever changed? Is it the end of you? Maybe this is the story of a new beginning, a thorny rebirth.

"My car, with the drug in the boot, was tucked behind the rural filling station. Still hot and smoking, the machine had suffered catastrophic failure...."

  A man alone faces himself and his history, with a little chemical assistance. But what is now and what is cruel flashback? Hallucination, madness, or reality? Does it matter?

"I’m Hermann Haber. Perhaps you’ve heard of my father. He won the Nobel Prize...."

  In this three-character play set in 1915, timely questions are raised about the boundaries between genius and evil, patriotism and morality. And a great interview with the playwright follows!

"It was quite by accident I discovered this incredible invasion of Earth by lifeforms from another planet. As yet, I haven’t done anything about it; I can’t think of anything to do."

  Did a friend ever lend you an ear? Or give you a hand? They must be aliens -- call the authorities!

"I'm in the cafe I frequent practically every day. I sit in the corner and bury myself in my phone. That is what I use to write with."

  Struggling with writer's block? Maybe you need the help of a magical being from out of a coffee cup. But... at what price?

"It was dusk and I was about to head back to the highway when I saw a building in the distance. Lights were on. Even if it was just somebody’s house, I decided I’d stop and ask for directions...."

Even a private eye can't always see the danger he's walking into. What makes people do the things they do?

"When I was 17, I killed a man. He was very old, and he was walking by the side of the road in the twilight."

  Time can't erase experience when coincidence keeps it alive. Is this a message from somewhere? How do you create meaning in your life?

"Barney Rudolph was a solitary man. This is what he silently said in his private story of self. Alienated, a loner, lone wolf, outsider. Always an outsider."

  Can a movie be made that is not a movie? Can a man be not a man? Maybe each of us is just something happening in a sea of happenings

"At fifty-five years of age he found himself on the shelf. It was an actual shelf in a warehouse on the Brooklyn waterfront...."

  A clever solution to the commuting problem, or something else? Can a real life be lived backstage, where castoffs from the illusion factory huddle in limbo?

"In the bed the writer had a dream that was not a dream. As he grew somewhat sleepy but was still conscious, figures began to appear before his eyes. He imagined the young indescribable thing within himself was driving a long procession of figures before his eyes."   What happens to you when you take a truth to be your own? Can you be saved by the young thing inside you?