J. Michael Straczynskis letter on Harlan Ellison


Harlan hit the brakes. Glanced in the rear and side mirrors. “Goddamnit,” he said, “she’s all alone.” He punched the steering wheel, then – an inner decision made – got out of the car and walked the half block down to her. We didn’t know what the hell to do any more than the guys watching from the shadows.

I popped the door enough to hear what was being said, and to be ready to jump in if anything went wrong.

Read more  J. Michael Staczynski’s letter about his friend Harlan Ellison’s death.

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