
The diner was playing Christmas music, which seemed a little strange so early in December, but Peter Denniau was eating alone at the small booth near the corner table, and his thoughts kept drifting with carols. Sure, the shepherds had heard the angels on high, but had they believed them?
How many shepherds had heard? How many angels had fanned out to the countryside to proclaim the good news? Had an entire horde of shepherds descended on the nativity, or only a very few, wide-eyed and not fully believing they had come on ethereal strains that everyone else acted like they couldn’t hear?
None of this was making it easier for him to ignore the fact that a very pretty young woman was looking at him from a nearby table, her eyes a little wide with admiration, and her lips turning up just a little at the corners.
She was pale blond, and her eyes were a deep sort of amber, and her features were as perfectly symmetrical as they could be without making her look like a doll and hit the uncanny valley. More importantly, her eyes looked animated and intelligent. And she didn’t look like one of the many college students that infested Pete’s kitchen these days. Oh, sure, she looked young enough to still be in college, but there was something to her expression, something to the eyes, that gave the impression she’d lived a longer life and had thought about everything she’d experienced, too. A face that indicated she, as Peter was often accused of, thought too much.
(Removed because book — Christmas in Time — will be available for sale on Amazon 12-14-2025)
Very nice.
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Another good story. Poignant, but this time the onion ninjas stayed away. Good; I can use a break from onion ninjas just now.
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They stayed away from you because the sunny beaches were too busy kicking sand in my face.
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Very nice, thank you!
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Sweet story. Merry early Christmas.
“Sure, there were hookers — and policemen — and writers at the tables…”
Of course there were writers to go with the hookers and policemen. :)
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at two in the morning, half the sf writers in Denver were at Pete’s, in the old days. Including me and older son, having coffee and plotting half the time.
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A beautiful tale, Sarah. Thank you!
Denver is trying their best to kill Colfax with bike lanes and bus lanes and unending construction. And the substance-addled homeless population occupying the sidewalks has grown so large as to make pedestrian traffic nearly impossible.
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Another wonderful story, Ms. Sarah.
This just struck me again today. Seems like it matters to us today…
—-
Vance Stayed On
He could have left.
They offered him full clearance, retroactive honors, even his own company — a neat way to scrub his Martian record and repurpose him into a symbol.
But he stayed.
Not out of guilt.
But out of clarity.
“I never knew what honor was,” he told Sandoval one night over a tin cup of jungle coffee. “I thought it came with medals or orders. Turns out it’s simpler. You just don’t run. Even when every instinct tells you to.”
—-
God bless us every one.
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Don’t be sorry: this was worth the wait. Your Christmas stories are wonderful! A couple of typos, if you care: whether should be weather and egg shaped instead of egged shaped. But who cares! Lovely story!
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Beautiful Christmas story.
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Another delightful story, I love it! Thank you Sarah!
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Superb, Sarah, and greatly appreciated. I generally associate your writing most closely with Heinlein, but saw images of Bradbury in this.
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Love it! It just felt right as I read it.
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Thank you.
RCPete, neither a diner owner nor a starship captain, but life is good.
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Marvelous! Thank you.
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Sarah?Please write a full book of short stories.Please.
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they’re out there!
Crawling Between Heaven and Earth was the first, but there’s half a dozen other collections on amazon.
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I had no idea. Uh …”Mary Pagones”? 12 books in the series?Sigh: I’m always late to the party.
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What? NO.
That’s not my name or pen name.
Hold on.
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For the record all pen names are on wikipedia. If I say I wrote something and it’s not under Sarah A. Hoyt, I’ll tell you. I have NO idea who Mary Pagones is, and I hope you didn’t buy the book. Please, don’t hold it against me.
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LOL.
I was waiting for your reply to place an order.
Mary Pagones (never heard of her either) has a book of the same title you first mentioned: “Crawling Between Heaven and Earth” (4 of a series of 12) …which turned up in the Amazon search (I did after your first reply).
I thought it odd. So I figured I’d ask first.
For the record, I ordered the above. Thanks!
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Yep, there are so many books that it is presumably getting somewhere between hard and impossible to find names that would have never been used before, much less ones that nobody else will use for their own book some time in the future (said as somebody who seems to have a tendency to figure out names that are generic enough that they have already been used by more than one author…). So going just by the name of the book is not the best possible alternative, always check and double check.
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Titles aren’t copyrightable. I think my book was first, though. That particular collection is a little weird as it was my very first collection of semi-presentable stories, and yes, they were written to the market. BUT it’s been out since…. Oh dear Lord. 99?
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Lovely.
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Great story. One problem.
Now I want to know the rest of it. Of his experiences as he learns his new world, when he starts to fly the ships, how his relationship with Nova develops, what kind of adventures he will have, maybe with Nova, in space…
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Lovely.
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So, AI-Ai, Miss American Ai
Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was AI
And them “girls” who were boys were drinkin’ Diet Pepsi and rye
Singin’, “This’ll be the day that I AI
This’ll be the day that I AI”
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I’ve often wondered if I’d go with Dr. Who if the police box showed up. I think young me would have. I don’t think I’d go, now – too much running for an old man.
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Same, same.
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9th Doctor: “What’s your name?”
Rose: “Rose Tyler.”
9th Doctor: “Nice to meet you, Rose. Run for your life!” 😄
— from the first ‘New Doctor Who’ episode (back before the Beeb F’d it up)
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It would be quite interesting to have a companion who was spry but elderly. And perhaps an actual child.
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A very nice story, and a well done take on the “alternate world lines” theme. That aspect reminded me in particular of “For a foggy night” by Larry Niven, and also the novel “All these Earths” by Busby, which includes some bits about meetings between “brothers” who are different line analogs like the two in this story.
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