Short Fiction Collected, page 1
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Short Fiction Collected
Gary Jennings
(custom book cover)
Jerry eBooks
Bibliography: Novels
Bibliography: Nonfiction
Short Fiction Bibliography: chronological
Short Fiction Bibliography: alphabetical
Fiction Series
Epigraph
1962
Myrrha
1963
Grease Job
1965
Blood Money
A Murkle for Jesse
1969
After All the Dreaming Ends
Next
1970
Tom Cat
1971
Specialization
How We Pass the Time in Hell
1972
Betty
Sooner or Later or Never Never
1973
Ms. Found in an Oxygen Bottle
1976
Cribbing
1977
Not with a Bang but a Bleep
Lhude Sing Cuccu!
1978
Kingdom Come
Let Us Prey
Be Jubilant My Feet!
1979
Homo Sap
The Relic
Ignis Fatuus
1980
Independence Day
Hell’s Fire
1982
Die and Follow Me
1983
Rouge on an Empty Glass
Gary Jennings was born on September 20, 1928, in Buena Vista, Virginia; son of Glen Edward (a printer) and Vaughnye May (nee Bays). He graduated from Eastside High School in Paterson, New Jersey, and was mostly self-educated thereafter.
Jennings worked as a copywriter and account executive for various advertising agencies, and as a newspaper reporter in California and Virginia. From 1952-1954, he served in the Korean War as a correspondent; and was awarded the Bronze Star, citation from Republic of Korea Ministry of Information.
Jennings lived for 12 years in Mexico to research the Aztec novels, traveled the Balkans while researching Raptor, and joined nine circus troupes during the writing of Spangle.
Primarily remembered for his critically acclaimed books for young adults and historical novels, Jennings also wrote thirty works of short fiction; mostly for The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.
Gary Jennings died on February 13, 1999, in Pompton Lakes, New Jersey.
BIBLIOGRAPHY
NOVELS
The Terrible Teague Bunch (1975)
The Rope in the Jungle (1976)
Sow the Seeds of Hemp (1976)
Aztec (1980)
The Journeyer (1984)
Spangle (1987)
The Lively Lives of Crispin Mobey (1988)
Raptor (1992)
Aztec Autumn (1997)
Aztec Blood (2001)
Aztec Rage (2006)
Aztec Fire (2008)
Aztec Revenge (2012)
The Artificially Intelligent Alien (2023)
BIBLIOGRAPHY
NONFICTION
March of the Robots (1962)
The Movie Book (1963)
Personalities of Language (1965)
Parades!: Celebrations and circuses on the march (1966)
World of Words: The Personalities of Language (1967)
The Teenager’s Realistic Guide to Astrology (1971)
The Shrinking Outdoors (1972)
The Treasure of the Superstition Mountains (1973)
The Killer Storms: Hurricanes, Typhoons, and Tornadoes (1974)
Black Magic, White Magic (1975)
The Earth Book (1975)
March of the Heroes: The folk hero through the ages (1975)
March of the Gods (1976)
March of the Demons (1977)
SHORT FICTION BIBLIOGRAPHY
CHRONOLOGICAL
1958
C/O Harry Wry, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, July 1958
1961
Buy Now, Die Later, The Gent, August 1961
Where the Butterflies Sing, Redbook, August 1961
1962
Myrrha, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1962
Bride to Be, Rogue, December 1962
1963
Grease Job, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, June 1963
1965
Blood Money, Manhunt, January 1965
A Murkle for Jesse, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, July 1965
1966
The Romance, Chatelaine, August 1966
1969
After All the Dreaming Ends, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, February 1969
Next, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August 1969
1970
Tom Cat, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, July 1970
1971
Specialization, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January 1971
How We Pass the Time in Hell, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, November 1971
1972
Betty, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January 1972
Sooner or Later or Never Never, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, May 1972
1973
Ms. Found in an Oxygen Bottle, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December 1973
1976
Cribbing, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December 1976
1977
Not with a Bang but a Bleep, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1977
Lhude Sing Cuccu!, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1977
1978
Kingdom Come, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January 1978
Let Us Prey, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1978
Be Jubilant My Feet!, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December 1978
1979
Homo Sap, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, March 1979
The Relic, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1979
Ignis Fatuus, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1979
1980
Independence Day, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, April 1980
Hell’s Fire, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1980
1982
Die and Follow Me, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, July 1982
1983
Rouge on an Empty Glass, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August 1983
SHORT FICTION BIBLIOGRAPHY
ALPHABETICAL
A
After All the Dreaming Ends, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, February 1969
B
Be Jubilant My Feet!, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December 1978
Betty, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January 1972
Blood Money, Manhunt, January 1965
Bride to Be, Rogue, December 1962
Buy Now, Die Later, The Gent, August 1961
C
C/O Harry Wry, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, July 1958
Cribbing, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December 1976
D
Die and Follow Me, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, July 1982
G
Grease Job, Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, June 1963
H
Hell’s Fire, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1980
Homo Sap, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, March 1979
How We Pass the Time in Hell, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, November 1971
I
Ignis Fatuus, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1979
Independence Day, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, April 1980
K
Kingdom Come, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January 1978
L
Let Us Prey, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1978
Lhude Sing Cuccu!, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1977
M
Ms. Found in an Oxygen Bottle, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December 1973
Myrrha, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September 1962
N
Next, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August 1969
Not with a Bang but a Bleep, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1977
R
The Relic, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, June 1979
The Romance, Chatelaine, August 1966
Rouge on an Empty Glass, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August 1983
S
Sooner or Later or Never Never, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, May 1972
Specialization, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January 1971
T
Tom Cat, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, July 1970
W
Where the Butterflies Sing, Redbook, August 1961
FICTION SERIES
[N] = Novel
[SF] = Short Story/Novelette
Series List
Aztec
Reverend Crispin Mobey
Aztec
Aztec [N]
Aztec Autumn [N]
Aztec Blood [N]
Aztec Rage [N]
Aztec Fire [N]
Aztec Revenge [N]
Reverend Crispin Mobey
Sooner or Later or Never Never [SF]
Not with a Bang But a Bleep [SF]
Lhude Sing Cuccu! [SF]
Kingdom Come [SF]
Let Us Prey [SF]
Be Jubilant My Feet! [SF]
Homo Sap [SF]
Ignis Fatuus [SF]
I’m a writer. I write not only for a
living, I write because I’m a writer.
1962
Myrrha
This is a horrible story.
Excerpts from the report of the court-appointed psychiatrist, concurring in the commitment of Mrs. Shirley Makepeace Spencer to the Western State Hospital at Staunton, Virginia:
TO ALL STIMULI APPLIED, SUBject remains blind, deaf, mute and paralyzed . . .
Catatonic schizophrenia . . .
. . . complete withdrawal . . .
Briefly, subject’s formerly uneventful domestic life was recently disrupted by two tragic circumstances. Two loved ones died violently; but by indisputable accident, as attested by attending physicians.
To judge from her diary, subject reacted rationally enough to the fact of these deaths. Traumatic withdrawal appears to have developed from her inability to accept them as accidental. Although an intelligent, educated woman, she mentions toward the end of her diary, “a blight, a curse.” When Mrs. Spencer hints at suspecting her innocent house guest of cornplicity in the tragedies, the textbook syndrome is complete.
Events leading up to her psychogenic deterioration are set down in subject’s daily journal. The appended extractions have been arranged in narrative form, edited only in the excision of extraneous matter and repeated datelines.
NOTE: The last, unfinished sentence, which subject wrote just before the onset of catatonia, is inexplicable. In the absence of any other indication that she was obsessed with classical mythology, the final entry can only be dismissed as hysteric incoherence.
Excerpts front the journal of Mrs. Shirley Spencer, dated at intervals, May 10, 1960 to final entry, sometime in July, 1961. Intervals of one day or more are indicated by asterisks:
I had forgotten how beautiful Myrrha Kyronos was. Is, I should say. When she arrived this morning, I just had to get out the old Southern Seminary annual and look up her picture. She hasn’t changed an iota. She was a year ahead of me at school, probably a year older. That would make her 31 now, and she might just have doffed the cap and gown! And after that long ocean crossing, and the ride in the trucks and all, and having to mother a dozen horses and half a dozen helpers the whole way!
Tom’s mouth fell open when he met her. Afterwards he said if he’d known what a “temptation” I was putting in his way he’d never have agreed to let Myrrha come for the summer. Pooh to the temptation; Myrrha’s interested in nothing but her horses. And lovely creatures they are; she must have rounded them up on Mount Olympus. By comparison, our gentle old saddle jades here on the farm appear as torpid as tortoises.
Myrrha has certainly brought excitement. Right from the start, when her letter came. I don’t believe Mr. Tatum bothered to stop at any mailbox between Warrenton and here, he was so anxious to deliver that letter from Greece. And I was just about as amazed as he was. Myrrha and I hadn’t been “close” at school, and I’d had no reason to give her a thought since then.
And now here she is. And here I am, dabbling in international relations or whatever you’d call it. This is the first time Greece has ever competed in the National Horse Show. When I told Myrrha we were honored to play hosts to a representative of the Greek team, she laughed and said, “I am the Royal Hellenic Team.”
* * * Of course the Show doesn’t come off until November. Myrrha brought the horses here now to get them used to American weather and atmosphere and feed—apparently foreign horses are a sensitive lot.
In just 24 hours, Myrrha has become undisputed queen of the Spencer acres, at least as far as our Dorrie is concerned. Dorrie, who can hardly speak “Virginian” yet, is beginning to imitate Myrrha’s exotic speech. A slight accent, disarming rather than distracting, that I don’t remember her having, way-back-when.
* * * Even if we weren’t just thrilled to have Myrrha herself here, we’d enjoy basking in her reflected glory. The horses are the showpiece and envy of the neighborhood, and she is the cynosure of all the local young men. Cars drive by hourly, full of sightseers either openly ogling or pretending a nonchalant interest.
For the first time today I tried to strike up a conversation with one of Myrrha’s—whatever they are; she has a Greek word for them—herders, I suppose. And I can say truthfully it was all Greek to me. None of them speaks English.
All are dark, saturnine, hairy little men. They keep strictly to themselves—and the horses, of course. They seem to have made provision for their keep. Whatever it is they cook for themselves down there by the barn smells like singed hair and is eaten wrapped in a grape leaf. At night they amuse themselves with a sonorous and inharmonious tweedling; Pan-pipes, is my guess.
* * * Good old bumbling Tom got familiar enough to ask her why her husband hadn’t come over. When she admitted there was none, he essayed gallantry and said he would expect her to be married to a prince. She told him quite seriously, “King Paul has only daughters.”
It does appear that Myrrha hails from one of the wealthiest families in her country, which somehow I never realized in the old days at school. Her father owns all these horses she brought, and is underwriting the expenses of the whole venture, all for the greater glory of Greece.
* * * Myrrha told us, on arrival, that we must try to overlook any of her “so-strange” customs. I’d call them superstitions. Why, when we went walking in the woods, did she refuse to cross the branch? She said the still water would reflect her image; so what? And why, when I resurrected my old class ring, did she recoil and say she had a horror of wearing rings?
* * * Dorrie, who has always treated our own horses with a sort of lazy, familiarity-bred contempt, looks on Myrrha’s as if they were Santa’s reindeer. It gives me a turn, sometimes, to see her dodging in and out among their sharp hoofs, or brazenly braiding one’s tail. But hair-triggered and walleyed as they are at any other intrusion, they suffer her as benignly as if she were their own frisky colt.
And Myrrha doesn’t seem to mind, any more than she minds Tom’s tomfoolery. Nowadays he pretends to be a horseflesh expert. He’s forever down at the stable or the paddock, looking wise, or expounding on some trick-of-the-trade known only to him, and getting in the little Greek herders’ way, and one of these times he’s going to get kicked in the head.
* * * Was admiring Myrrha’s steeds today, for the umptieth time, and she scolded me gently about my own Merry Widow. Said she could have made a show-horse, if I’d spent a little time and effort instead of letting her turn out to be just—“A drudge?” I laughed. “Like me?” and said that Merry and I suited each other.
Torn said maybe it wasn’t too late; how about Myrrha letting one of her stallions service Merry Widow after the Show doings were over? I thought, and told him so, that that was an indelicate suggestion. He and Myrrha laughed.
* * * First friction tonight.
My fault. We were re-hashing schooldays. Thinking it was the typical hair-letting-down hen session, I humorously confided to Myrrha that I and the other girls had considered her rather too “queenly” in her demeanor.
Myrrha was not amused; she practically demanded to know what were the necessary qualifications for queenliness. Somewhat flustered, I said, “Well, after all, the only other Greek any of us knew was the little man at the depot fruit-stand over in Lexington.”
Black, an artist friend once told me, is considered a “cold” color. Myrrha’s eyes are black, but they flared out like heat-lightning. I shouldn’t have said what I did.
* * * I shouldn’t have said what I did. Things have been very awkward and a little awful for the past two days. Myrrha is being queenly in earnest, now, and I guess I’m in the role of the Court Fool. Tom has chided me for my “inhospitality,” and even Dorrie turns an occasional melancholy gaze on Mommy for tilting at her idol.
