In 2008 I worked at a college that required an hour commute. To amuse myself, I would imagine myself as a different character each morning then compose a short story based loosely on my commute. Afterwards I would write them down and post them to my blog. They began as one-paragraph shorts, but with time and practice I grew more ambitious.

In this example, I imagined myself as 007 during my morning commute. Continue reading


“Are you a technician or a driveling idiot?”  — “The Proud Robot” (1943)

The story goes that science-fiction writer, Henry Kuttner, named his inebriated and gifted scientist “Gallagher” while writing “The Time Locker” then mistakenly called him “Galloway” when writing its sequel. And after realizing his error, Kuttner combined the names giving “Galloway Gallagher” his full name. Continue reading


One Sunday as a child, I sat in church listening to our pastor deliver a sermon on the Last Judgement. Being a kid with an active imagination, I envisioned angels using TVs to show sinners our sins.

In the Anglo-Saxon tradition of poetry, poets used cadence rather than rhyme to weave their spell. These poets used alliteration to drive the beat of their spoken words. Being a fan of Anglo-Saxon poetry, I have tried to tried to do the same. Continue reading


A highway in Strange Loop, Texas—while driving home today, I hit upon what I believed was a bright idea and instantly snapped my fingers. Then I caught myself and asked aloud, “I wonder who first thought to finger snap when hitting upon a bright idea?”

And as my car hugged the curvature of space and time, rocketing  past the farms skirting the rural highway, this question sent my mind reeling. Continue reading


We were loaded in barges off Normandy . . . when the assault boats started into the beach, we got everything . . . Artillery, machine guns, small arms fire, mortar shells, mines. They banged us up some on the way in . . . when the ramps went down men began to drop. —Pvt. George Gutschke to the Associated Press July 12, 1944

Channel Coast off Normandy. 0715 Hours.

The morning is raw and the Channel full of menace. Winds whip the sea. The sea seethes and writhes and heaves our assault barge into its transport with a clang.

And all over our barge doughboys retch.

Continue reading


On June 6, 1944, my dad – Pvt. George C. Gutschke, is a member of the 29th Infantry Division, assigned to the Western Task Force: Assault Force B.

Allied planners intend Assault Force B to land on Omaha Beach in the evening of June 6 and the morning of June 7 to mop up German resistance and reinforce the beachhead; Maj. Gen. Charles Gerhardt, however, argues the original invasion plan does not put sufficient forces on Omaha Beach in the early morning should German troops mount stiff resistance. General Omar Bradley agrees ordering elements of Force B to sail with Force O so they might be committed to the battle if necessary. Continue reading


I am afraid I cannot convey the peculiar sensations of time travel. They are exceedingly unpleasant.  — The Time Machine (1895)

July 9th, 2009.

Today I finished the final chapters of H. G. Wells’ The Time Machine, and felt the sadness I always feel when finishing a great book—it is the sadness of parting ways with people I have grown to love with the turn of every page. But mixed with my sadness was pride of accomplishment.  I had started the book numerous times, but always lost my way. This time I set off with the Time Traveler determined to see the journey to its end. Continue reading