C. C. Brower Short Story Collection 01

A first collection of short stories from C. C. BrowerIn addition to her longer novellas and novels, Brower started out with short stories.Contemporary, Fantasy, Science Fiction - 13 wonderful worlds from a different view of life. New ways to look at the world you live in, and ask yourself "what if" things were different...This anthology contains:The CaretakerWhen The Wild CallsMind TimingBecoming MichelleWhen the Cities Died, I DancedSnow GiftMr. Ben’s Rail RoadThe War BringethPeace: Forever WarSnow CaveVacation AmokThe Emperor’s ScribeA Long Wait for SantaNote: Mind Timing and Becoming Michelle were co-authored with R. L. SaundersExcerpt from Mind TIming:When the last of the long-languishing news media died, it was with barely a whimper. No bang. Not even a sullen pop. And eyes were dry all around. No one mourned, few even noticed.Two glasses clinked at the Club in celebration. And that was all the wake they deserved.I and my visitor-turned-conspirator were the only witnesses.To the end of a global war that now never happened.- - - -He had entered uninvited and unwelcomed that first day, long ago. It’s not that women couldn’t have male visitors at the Club. As long as they were properly chaperoned or in the very public areas. But in those days, and by that time, no one expected that a white male presented any challenge or hazard.Women ran politics, they ran business, they ran the world. Women scientists explored the known universe and profited from their discoveries."Mari, a man is here to see you." The female maitre d’ at my elbow quietly announced.This interrupted my news scanning, but was cautiously done. Alarmed Club members could get a bit defensive. And in these days, that could be dangerous to other Club patrons.I sensed this as something unique, something out of the usual, the humdrum. It was actually a change I had been praying for.So when that lone white male called at the all-female Club and asked for me by name, I accepted. He was shown to the middle of the main lounge, where two overstuffed chairs sat separated by a small side table. A distance surrounding them for room to move in case anything untoward developed.While such a visit took time away from my scheduled daily poker game. I was tired of the usual bitching banter that accompanied each hand as we all knew the other’s tells and bluffs.It was time for new blood. Or a new game...