She was sweet, gentle, kind—a sort of Martian Old Mother Hubbard. But when she went to her cupboard ...
urst in a cloud of red sand and the little Martian sand dog ducked quickly into his burrow. Marilou threw another at the aperture in the ground and then ran over and with the inside of her foot she scraped sand into it until it was filled to the surface. She started to leave, but stopped.
The little fellow might choke to death, she thought, it wasn't his fault she had to live on Mars. Satisfied that the future of something was dependent on her whim, she dug the sand from the hole. His little yellow eyes peered out at her.
"Go on an' live," she said magnanimously.
She got up and brushed the sand from her knees and dress, and walked slowly down the red road.
The noon sun was relentless; nowhere was there relief from it. Marilou squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand. She looked in the sky for one of those infrequent Mar
A dated (Mars ain't like that,) Alien "boo!" story. Even if you pretend it's a planet other than Mars where all the conditions were possible, it's pretty lightweight.