A Spatio-analyst lands on the planet Florina to warn the authorities of a threat to their world. For his troubles, his memory is wiped and he is left on the planet unable to function. He is cared for by a local woman and trained to work in a factory. Over time, flashes of memory return, placing him and those closest to him in increasing danger. Asimov delivers an adroit mix of intrigue, mystery, and science fiction in a fast-paced story with solid world-building. It should be noted that this tale is set in the same universe as his Foundation series with Trantor as the seat of the Galactic Empire.
All posts by philgiunta@ptd.net
Back from Hiatus In Time for Spooky Season
For me, the end of summer is typically accompanied by trepidation. As much as I love autumn for its gorgeous foliage, cooler weather, and of course, Hallowe’en, I dread the imminent approach of winter. Once the holidays are over, I have no use for the cold, dark months that exacerbate my battles with depression and anxiety. January and February are like the Monday of the year. Bleah.
However, we’re not there yet and I’m enjoying a spate of sunny September days with mild temperatures. I’m also looking ahead to several wonderful book events in the coming months, which will be listed at the end of this post. You can also find them on my Upcoming Events page.
As I write this, I’m awaiting the results of two writing contests that I entered in the first quarter of this year and I hope to hear back soon from a popular magazine about a short story I submitted over the summer. Should I have any good news to share about these, I’ll post it here and chat about it on my YouTube channel.
Speaking of summer, I took a hiatus from writing new material to compile a collection of most (but not all) of my published short stories from the past fifteen years. I reviewed each one and made a few light edits. Revisiting these characters and their adventures was a fun trip down memory lane.
Dreams from the Edge of Reality will offer 27 stories of fantasy, paranormal, detective, and even a few inspirational. Advance review copies have been sent to a handful of writers for their opinions and I hope to release the book by summer 2026.
I held back all of my science fiction stories as they take place in the same region of our galaxy and will be gathered into a collection of their own to be published in 2027. More on that later.
There were also a few personal reasons for taking a break from writing, which included a series of minor home repairs and renovations, ongoing business regarding my late mother’s estate, litigation over a matter I cannot reveal at this time, a few health issues, travel, and the need for self-care while juggling all of the above.
Despite the obstacles, I managed to record new videos for my YouTube channel, Got a Story for Ya, in which I read story excerpts and offered updates on upcoming events, writing awards, and book releases. A new episode should go live in late September.
Near the end of August, I got my writer’s legs under me again and started working on a short ghost story that is partially derived from a novella-in-progress that I placed on hold in 2024. I should finish the ghost story in the next week or two and if accepted by the publisher, it will be included in a Halloween anthology in 2026.
In October, I plan to resurrect the aforementioned novella and focus on that to its long overdue completion. With any luck, that will be published next year.
As promised, here are a few upcoming events where you can find me this autumn. Hope to see you at one or more of these if you’re in the area. In the meantime, enjoy these final weeks of summer and stay safe out there.
CREATURES, CRIMES, & CREATIVITY – Doubletree Hilton, Columbia, MD. September 19-21, 2025. Keynotes: Tom Straw and Jody Lynn Nye. Additional author guests include Ellen Crosby, L. Marie Wood, Joe Brosnan, Mark Bergin, Sharon Buchbinder, Weldon Burge, Austin Camacho (con organizer), Ef Deal, Bill Fawcett, Phil Giunta, Dana King, Serge Koren, Joanne McLaughlin, Roberta Rogow, Ilene Schneider, Ann Stolinsky, Lane Stone, and more!
WITCHES DAY OUT – Tri-Boro Sportsmen Club, Northampton, PA. Sunday, October 12, 2025. Halloween craft fair with live DJ, tricky tray, costume contest, kids activities, and more! I will have a table at this show.
EASTON BOOK FESTIVAL – Downtown Easton, PA. October 13-19, 2025. The seventh annual Easton Book Festival presents literary programs for adults, teens, and children, including readings, seminars, open mic performances, story-times, panel discussions, a Small Press Expo and a Young Adult Fest. I will participate in a number of literary events and discussion panels on Sunday, October 19 in the Sigal Museum Gallery.
BROWSEABOUT BOOKS – Rehoboth Beach, DE. Saturday, November 8, 2025 from 11AM – 1PM. Excited to join several fellow authors at Browseabout Books in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware to sign copies of our latest Mindful Writers anthology, Retreat, along with previous titles such as Shell House, Into the Woods, Love on the Edge, and more.
A Thorne in Time
In early 2024, Ann Stolinsky of Celestial Echo Press invited seven writers, myself included, to be headliners for an anthology called Ruth and Ann’s Guide to Time Travel. Aside from one reincarnation story, I had never written a true time hopping tale before. This old familiar trope has been done so often, and from so many angles, that I was intimidated by the challenge.
Nevertheless, I began thinking about how time travel could be used as crime prevention and that led me to write a tale that partners a physicist with a detective to stop a serial killer before he gets started. “A Thorne in Time” went on to win first place in the Pennsylvania Press Club Communications Contest in 2025. I hope you enjoy the opening scene. Thanks for reading!
A Thorne in Time
by Phil Giunta
Captain Garrett McNally straightened his tie as he marched along the concrete walkway that led from the driveway to the front of the sprawling Thorne Mansion. The weed-infested gardens and overgrown lawn clashed with his memory of the last time he stepped foot on this property twelve years ago. Every inch of the place had been immaculate then—a paradise at the edge of the city.
Its luster had since faded and McNally couldn’t help but wonder if that began the moment he informed Robert and Emily Thorne that their daughter, Tanya, had been the latest victim of a serial killer at the tender age of twenty-two. Robert suffered a fatal stroke a few days later and Emily lost her battle with cancer six years after that. As far as McNally knew, Tanya’s twin sister Noreen still lived here, alone.
He jogged up the steps to the portico where two dead plants in mold-covered cement pots flanked a weathered mahogany door in dire need of a cleaning and new finish. He rang the camera doorbell. A few seconds later, a form undulated in the frosted privacy glass before the door swung open. McNally had expected to be greeted by a woman in her mid-thirties, but Noreen’s salt and pepper hair, tired eyes, and drawn complexion lent her the appearance of someone much older.
“Ms. Thorne. It’s been a long time.”
“So long in fact that it’s Doctor Thorne now. Nice to see you again, Captain. Please, come in. I appreciate you driving all the way out here so soon after I called. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee…?”
“No, thank you. I’m good. When you said you had new information regarding the Westside Slasher case, I cleared the rest of my day.”
“Well, I hope to make it worth your time.” She closed the door behind him. “Let’s go to my office. So, how’s your daughter these days?”
“Darla’s doing well. Joined a new law firm not too far from here. Still misses Tanya. Talks about her once in a while.”
“They were closer than anyone realized back then.”
She led him down a short hallway to a room with four large monitors mounted in a square formation above a cluttered desk. They were connected to a single laptop by a tangle of cables and adapters.
Thorne tapped the space bar. Every screen lit up, each with a video file ready to play. “I must ask you to indulge me, Captain. Twelve years ago, the first victim of the Westside Slasher was Sarah Peretti. Do you recall his sixth and final victim?”
“Of course.” McNally cocked his head. “It was your sister.”
“Are you sure about that?” She grabbed the mouse and clicked the play button on the first screen. An anchorman with Channel 14 News shifted in his seat. “The sixth victim of the Westside Slasher has been identified as twenty-eight-year-old Mae Kaplan of Roycetown. Kaplan worked for MacHale Medical Center, just three blocks from where she was attacked and stabbed seven times. Police are—”
Thorne stopped the video.
“That’s not right.” McNally frowned. “I don’t recognize that name and as the detective on the case, I remember every victim.”
“What about this one?” Thorne launched the video on the second monitor.
“The sixth victim of the Westside Slasher has been identified as twenty-one-year-old Hailey Mahlberg of Bartlett Village,” the same anchorman reported. “Mahlberg was a senior at Declan University—”
“Hailey Mahlberg was the third victim not the last one,” McNally said. “What is this?”
“As I said, Captain, indulge me.” Thorne slid the mouse to the third screen and clicked play.
“The sixth victim of the Westside Slasher has been identified as thirty-year-old Deb Webb, a mother of three and math teacher at Upper Carlton Middle School. Police are—”
“Are these deepfakes? Did you use AI to fabricate them?”
“I don’t have access to that kind of technology.” Thorne folded her arms and leaned against the desk. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t use it to disrespect these women, especially since my sister was one of them. What you watched are three videos from three different timelines.”
“Come again?”
“I don’t have the tools to make deepfakes, Captain, but what if I had something that could help you stop the Westside Slasher before he claimed his first victim?”
McNally snickered. “Like what, a time machine?”
***
“A more accurate term would be time portal. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
In the center of Thorne’s sub-basement lab, McNally gaped at the gray metal arch that stood floor to ceiling. Several pairs of colored cables wrapped around its thick metal framework, terminating in scattered sockets where small green and amber lights pulsed and flashed. A shimmering, translucent field of pale blue filled the span beneath the arch. Across the room, four monitors were mounted on the wall above a long white counter, reminiscent of the office upstairs.
McNally paced around the arch, examining every detail, before shooting a sidelong glance at Thorne. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”
“It’s no joke, Captain. Those videos I showed you were the result of my three failed attempts to save Tanya’s life in the past, which spawned three alternate timelines. Originally, she was the slasher’s second victim. Each time I traveled back, I managed to steer her out of harm’s way only for her to be murdered somewhere else a few days later. In the process, the list of victims always changed.”
McNally rubbed his forehead as the reality of Thorne’s words set in. “So every move you made had a kind of butterfly effect.”
“Right, but where you and everyone else remembers only the final sequence of murders—the current timeline—I remember all four timelines, perhaps because I was tethered to the time portal. The computers in the house are all connected to the arch, which allowed me to save the videos I showed you from each timeline.”
“How long did it take you to build this?”
“It was my father’s invention. He spent two decades designing it and working out the math before constructing the arch. All he wanted to do was explore history, but he died before the portal was finished. So, I dedicated the past twelve years to learning the science behind it and making a few upgrades.”
“How does it work?”
“I could show you fifty-five pages of equations.” From the pocket of her cardigan, Thorne produced a small device with a screen displaying several rows of icons, similar to a phone. Its edges glowed with the same blue light as the arch. “Or we could just take a trip.”
“You control your time travels with that?”
“Correct again. I leave through the arch and when I need to return, this handheld controller generates a portal back to it. I have two of these devices, should you decide to help me.”
“I’m listening.”
“Regardless of the changes in the timelines, a few things remained the same. The first victim was always Sarah Peretti, you were the detective assigned to the case, the murders stopped after six, and the killer was never caught. Now we have the perfect opportunity to stop this bastard before he even gets started.”
“You want me to go with you twelve years into the past and catch the Westside Slasher before he becomes the Westside Slasher?”
“That about sums it up.”
McNally laughed. “This is insane.”
“Captain, when you came here twelve years ago to tell us that my sister had been murdered, I peppered you with questions about whether you had any suspects or witnesses or any leads at all. Do you remember what you told me?”
“I couldn’t say much. It was an open investigation. Technically, it still is. But I believe I said I wouldn’t give up until I found the killer.”
“I’m offering you that chance now, Captain. Please help me save my sister.”
Read the conclusion of “A Thorne in Time” and other fantastic tales in Ruth and Ann’s Guide to Time Travel!
New Video Newsletter is Up on YouTube!
A new episode of my video newsletter is up in which I chat about Lehigh Valley Comic Con, Easton Book Festival, Witches Day Out, and Creatures, Crimes, and Creativity Con.
I also read excerpts from my stories, “In the Span of a Heartbeat” published in Black Cat Weekly (Issue 176, January 2025) and “Isaac Geary’s Instant Utopia” published in Bright Mirror (Oddity Prodigy Productions, May 2025).
One correction: I mention that the Lehigh Valley Comic Con has one-day shows every “August and July.” That should be every August and December. I blame lack of sleep.
In the Span of a Heartbeat
In April of this year, I sold a Halloween story to Black Cat Weekly magazine to be included in one of their upcoming October issues. I’ll share more details on that when it’s published.
This was the second story I sold to them, the first being a science fiction piece titled “In the Span of a Heartbeat,” which appeared in Issue #176 in January 2025. I realized recently that I’d never shared the opening scenes of that story here on my blog as I did with my three other stories that were published in the first half of the year. So, here it is. I hope you enjoy this subsurface trek into danger, discovery, and personal reckoning.
During a survey mission on a distant planet, a group of scientists discovers an underground cavern rich in valuable artifacts, but soon find themselves hunted by a pack of subsurface creatures.
In the Span of a Heartbeat
by Phil Giunta
A string of expletives assailed Norimi as she entered the lab. The gruff voice bellowed from the conference table in the back corner, above which hovered a massive rotating hologram of Uzo, the largest of three planetoids at the edge of Enyari space. Its desolate, pockmarked surface resembled an artist’s palette of taupe, white, and burnt umber with occasional patches of slate blue. Uzo was also home for the next four weeks and the final stop on a yearlong expedition to survey the last undeveloped real estate in the solar system for colonization.
At the workbench across the lab, speleologists Wyn Kuona and Seth Reizig conversed in hushed tones as if afraid to draw the ire of the science team’s cantankerous leader.
Norimi sidestepped the hologram to find her father hunched in his seat, jabbing a finger at the touch screen in the table’s beveled edge. “Everything all right, Dad?”
“Can someone please tell me how the hell to pull up the damn contour map from Sonda?”
Oren, the team’s technical engineer, bounded in from the adjacent room. “No problem, Doctor Jurahn. Let me show you.”
The seismologist rolled his chair aside as the younger man hunched over the screen. He tapped once, swiped twice, and Uzo faded out. One more tap produced a rectangular cross-section of a lava tube connecting two massive calderas.
“Thank you.” Jurahn stood. “Perhaps my daughter married someone useful after all.”
Ignoring Norimi’s fuming gaze, the team leader cleared his throat. “Before we begin, just one announcement.” He clasped his hands behind him as Kuona and Reizig fell silent. “I received word from Captain Milliken earlier this morning. She’s been diverted to the edge of Zhoreen space. Hostilities are escalating in the region and the navy wants more firepower along the border. As a result, she will not be able to pick us up as scheduled. The closest ship to us is the Praetorius, but it’s five weeks out.”
The team responded with groans and slumped shoulders.
“Yes, I know. We’re all anxious to go home, but after a year in space, what’s an extra week? Now, let’s review our objectives for today.” Jurahn traced his finger along the edge of the holographic contour map. “According to the body wave emitters planted by our Sonda rover last year—”
“Just before it crapped out.” Kuona folded her arms across her chest and smirked at Oren. Norimi’s husband had designed the rover, which went offline five months after landing on Uzo, making him the target of occasional ridicule ever since.
“We don’t know what happened to it, Doctor Kuona,” Norimi said. “And it isn’t relevant right now. We have its last known coordinates. If we find it while we’re here, we’ll figure it out.”
Kuona’s smirk faded as her gaze shifted to the hologram.
“As I was saying,” Jurahn continued. “The seismic data Sonda sent back shows that this lava tube is sixty-three meters in diameter and runs for ninety-four kilometers, making it a strong candidate for a subsurface habitat. It’s seven hundred and eight meters down and runs directly beneath the two calderas we saw from orbit, Prythian and Erimaal, about ten kilometers apart. Near the base of each are caves, some of which connect with the lava tube.
“There are also several conduits that branch off from the tube. Some appear to end in caverns, others lead to dolines, or sinkholes, that are open to the surface. We’ll explore as many as we can. Based on the coin toss aboard ship yesterday, Kuona and Reizig will head northwest to Prythian, while Norimi and I go southeast to Erimaal. We’ll collect soil and rock samples, assess structural stability, and get a closer lay of the land while Oren monitors everything from here. Any questions?”
No one stirred.
“Excellent.” Jurahn tapped the screen and the hologram vanished. “Let’s go spelunking.”
***
Although four hundred times dimmer here than on their homeworld, the sun’s light was sufficient for navigating Uzo’s craggy terrain. In the driver’s seat of Crawler One, Norimi craned her neck to peer up at the towering rim of Erimaal, beyond which lay the largest caldera in the Naxdin Belt of planetoids. What had been a breathtaking view from orbit became humbling—and intimidating—at close range.
In the passenger seat, her father recorded their journey on the crawler’s exterior cameras, controlled by the dashboard’s touch screen. “We’ve been driving for twenty minutes and you haven’t uttered a word. When my daughter gives me the silent treatment, I know she has something on her mind.” He leaned toward her. “She gets that from her mother.”
“And if mom were still with us, she’d smack you upside the head for the way you treat Oren.” Norimi tore her gaze away from Erimaal and glared at her father. “I’ve held my tongue until now because we’re both still grieving, but I expected better from you.”
“As the leader of this team, I don’t have time to coddle anyone, Rimi. That includes your lesser half.”
“I’m not asking you to coddle him. I’m asking you to show him some respect for a change, as a colleague. You constantly belittle him because he’s not a scientist, yet Oren developed almost all of the tech we’re using on this mission.”
“Well, let’s hope it holds up better than his Sonda rover.”
“Why do I waste my breath?” As they drove into Erimaal’s shadow, Norimi slapped the dashboard touch screen. The headlights flashed on and glinted off the frame of a small vehicle parked beside the cave entrance. “Who the hell could that be?”
Her father tapped his dashboard screen. “Team One to Basecamp. We just arrived at the foot of Erimaal, and it looks like we have company.”
To continue reading “In the Span of a Heartbeat,” and many other fantastic stories, check out Black Cat Weekly #176.
Book Review: The Swamps of Jersey by Michael Stephen Daigle
Ironton, New Jersey police detective Frank Nagler has his hands full as the lead investigator when a decapitated woman is discovered in a swamp known as the Old Iron Bog. To make matters, one of the most brutal storms in recent history has flooded the town, causing millions of dollars of property damage. Nagler’s search for the unidentified woman’s killer dredges up bad memories, suspicious finances at City Hall, and scandalous activity by local politicians. The Swamps of Jersey is a fine example of contemporary detective noir by author and award-winning journalist Michael Stephen Daigle.