A romantic short story – Georgie and Milo

Posted on by under Blog Post, Romance

Every morning like clockwork, Georgie Bradford woke up at 6 a.m., alone, in her queen size bed. She would lay still in her solitude, watching the dust motes floating in the light that streamed through the blinds at the windows.

When she finally got out of bed, there was no urgency to her movements. She lived alone, and had since her late husband, Glenn, had passed away. It had been her choice; her daughter, Victoria, had offered Georgie a home in Massachusetts with her and her husband, Sam, and their two children, Ivy and Merritt, but she had declined. This was her home, the one that she and Glenn had bought when they had been young and newly married, with stars in their eyes and dreams in their heads.

She took a shower, then applied plenty of moisturizer and a touch of makeup to her wrinkled face. She often wondered why she bothered, since no one would see it, but she knew it was force of habit. She’d never been vain, but she liked to look presentable, just in case.

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Dave – A short story about childhood trauma

Posted on by under Blog Post, Literary Fiction

The cold rain was coming down in sheets as the case worker pulled the car seat out of the back of the car. She struggled to keep a firm grip on it as she sloshed through the wet yard towards the house with her burden. Thankfully, there was a metal awning over the concrete stoop, and she was able to sit the child in his carrier down so that she could shift the diaper bag onto her shoulder and tap on the front door.

The door opened and the case worker smiled at the older woman apologetically, “Sorry for such short notice …”

The woman shooed her apology away, as she reached for the car seat, “Oh, aren’t you just adorable,” she cooed, as she quickly looked over the little boy that was staring back up at her with big, concerned eyes, “You can’t be much over a year and a half, as tiny as you are.”

“He’s a month shy of two, actually,” the case worker explained, as she sat the diaper bag down, “He’s malnourished and developmentally delayed,” she reached into her purse and pulled out a few folded papers, “He has another doctor’s appointment next week. I suspect he’ll want you to set up an appointment with a speech therapist. My name’s Betty Channing, by the way.”

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French Kiss – A romantic short story

Posted on by under Blog Post, Romance

“Holy shit, Mom, that was close!”

“Adam, what did I say about cussing,” Meredith Greene took her eyes off the wheel to stare daggers at her fourteen year old son, “If you can’t keep it clean …”

“Then keep it quiet,” Adam rolled his eyes, “But, it’s not my fault that you can’t drive.”

“I am driving just fine,” Meredith snapped, as she returned her eyes to the single lane road that was bordered by enormous hedgerows on both sides, “And it’s easy for you to talk, mister, considering that you can’t even drive.”

Adam snorted, “I bet I could drive better than you, though.”

Meredith clenched her hands around the steering wheel and silently counted to ten, which was something she resorted to more and more frequently these days. She was seriously questioning her sanity at thinking this trip back to France was going to be idyllic, especially with a teenager in tow.

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The Crazy Life – A dramatic short story

Posted on by under Action, Blog Post

Jimmy Ryan was spinning crazily around the stage and Laura couldn’t take her eyes off him. His long, dark hair whipped around his head like a flag, sending sweat flying through the smoke filled air.

Around her, the girls were screaming his name and Laura tried to join in, but her voice was gone. She settled for shoving her way through the crowd to get a few inches closer to the stage.

Marcus Jane, the lead guitar player, strutted over in his skin tight, white leather pants and treated the crowd to a solo that sent tingles down Laura’s spine. Like everyone else in the packed arena, she flicked her lighter on and held it above her head as she swayed along to the haunting melody.

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The Holdup – A dramatic short story

Posted on by under Action, Blog Post

Mike Webb woke up feeling anxious. This was not a new feeling for him. On most days, there was a barely controlled anxiety that thrummed, low and steady, just beneath the surface. This anxiety, though, was made of sterner stuff, and it percolated throughout his entire body as he slowly went through his morning routine. By the time that he pulled his sweater over his button down shirt, and smoothed his hands down his khaki pants, though, Mike had managed to tamp it down enough so that he felt that he could function as he went through his day.

Mike decided to forgo breakfast, (his stomach was just too upset) but he did have a small glass of milk. He washed the glass, dried it carefully, and placed it back into its customary position inside the cabinet. He then dried the sink, sorted through a few bills and put them into neat stacks on his desk, and, on his way out of the apartment, made a mental note that there was a small stain on the carpet by the front door that he would need to scrub when he got home.

On the way to his car, a neighbor waved to him. Mike nodded quickly and looked immediately down at his feet. He had never felt comfortable making small talk with people, and almost always went out of his way to avoid it if he could. His girlfriend, Karen, gently poked fun of him, pointing out that, if not for her pursuit of him, he would never have spoken a single word to her. What made Mike sad was knowing that she was right.

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Luanna Finwith / The Dunston Case – A mystery short story

Posted on by under Blog Post, Mystery

A bee buzzed Festus Dunston’s face as he wrangled the extension ladder into place against his two story colonial. He wasn’t a young man anymore, and he was carrying an extra forty pounds around his middle, but his determination carried the day.

The ladder creaked ominously as he climbed nearly all the way to the top of its reach.

“Son of a bitch,” he exclaimed, as he eyed the small trees that were growing out of the gutters. The overgrowth was even worse than he’d assumed when he’d been down on the ground, “This is going to take me all damn day!”

He began yanking the muck out of the gutter, throwing it angrily down to the lawn below him.

The ladder shook. Festus pulled his hand out of the sludge and clenched the ladder as he glared down at the figure at the base of the ladder.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Festus’ tone was furious, but the sudden beads of sweat sliding down his paunchy cheeks gave away his alarm.

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The Mountain – A dramatic short story

Posted on by under Action, Blog Post

“Have a look at that. Pictures don’t do it justice, do they?”

“No, they certainly don’t.” Andie yanked one of the two sweaters that she was wearing up and over her head. She stuffed it into her pack as she stole a sidelong glance at her climbing guide. The kid was like a rooster strutting around the pen, all puffed up and full of himself. The fact that he was one of the top guides on the mountain circuit was what kept her agreeable, period.

“I will never forget my first time seeing Everest,” Dan Hanson went on, “Did I mention that I was only 23 at the time?”

“You might have mentioned it a time or two.” Andie unclipped her water bottle from her waistband and took a long drink. She let her eyes wander around their group, wondering why Dan had singled her out for his attention. Perhaps he’d already regaled everyone else of his accomplishments and it was just her turn to humor him.

“Well, I mean, word gets around, I guess.”

“It does.” Andie crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to take the hint.

“Well, I should check on some of the others.” Dan smiled, tightly, and moved off.

Andie watched him smoothly integrate himself into another group’s conversation and breathed a sigh of relief. She was in no mood for pointless small talk. Hadn’t been, for a long, long time now.

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The Choice – A short story about a marriage proposal

Posted on by under Blog Post, Literary Fiction

Boisterous laughter drifted up from the street below as Jennifer Carlo slid the sliding glass door open and stepped out onto the deck. She sucked in a deep breath of salty air as she sauntered over to the railing and looked down on the group of tanned teenagers that were heading to the beach just a block away.

Jen smiled as memories of her own teen years at the shore came flooding back. Those were some times, she thought; she and her gang of girlfriends had spent many, many long summer days strutting in their bikinis down to the boardwalk, eighties rock blaring from their boomboxes, tanned skin gleaming with sun oil and their lips coated in sticky pink gloss as the wind had tossed their wild, wild hair.

She’d had it all figured out back then, she thought, wryly, as she returned to the tiny kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee and pried a couple of cinnamon rolls from their cardboard tray, knowing full well that she really couldn’t stand the calories, but not fully giving a shit, either.

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The Run – A suspenseful short story

Posted on by under Blog Post, Suspense/Scary

The stairs creaked as Amber Ross hurried down them. She plopped down on the bottom stair and put on her running shoes, quickly tying them as Percy, her grandmother’s cat, came slinking out of the shadows, purring loudly as he rubbed against her bare legs.

“I suppose you want me to feed you?” she whispered, as she walked to the kitchen, trailed by the meowing cat. Amber fed Percy and looked at the glowing blue clock on the microwave. She still had plenty of time to fit in a run before school started.

The kitchen light flipped on, and Amber blinked against the bright light that flooded the room.

“Off for a run?” Amber’s dad, Will, asked, as he reached past her and flipped on the coffee pot.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got time,” Amber said, “Why are you up so early?”

Her dad had lost his job at the community college just shy of six months ago. They’d lost their house three months ago. Both of those developments were why they had ended up where they currently were … living with his parents’, Don and Phyllis Ross.

“I’ve got a job interview.” Will offered, as he grabbed a mug out of the cabinet.

“Good.” Amber said, feeling a bit guilty that she couldn’t manage a more celebratory tone. She let her eyes wander over him. He looked tired, beat up from all of the crap that life had thrown his way since his wife, Amber’s mom, had received the cancer diagnosis more than two years ago. She’d been gone for a year now, and Amber’s heart still reeled every single time that she thought about her for more than a few seconds. Still, as much as her mom’s death had been wrenching for her, it had hurt just as much to watch her dad’s entire life fall apart too.

“It is good,” Will agreed, as he ran a hand over his stubble, “It’s time to get my shit together,” he winked at her, “We don’t want to live with your Gram and Gramps forever, do we?”

“We do not,” Amber grinned, “Hey, maybe you should come with me, old man,” she poked his stomach, “You haven’t been on a run in months, even with Grandpa.”

“Yeah, I’ve slacked off. I know I have. Next time, sweetheart. I promise.”

“Fine, but I’m going to hold you to it.”

“Amber, be extra vigilant,” her dad’s words stopped her as she loped towards the front door, “I saw on the news that another runner was killed just last week. That makes three now.”

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Conversations With Grandpa – A short story about love and loss

Posted on by under Blog Post, Literary Fiction

”Grandpa, why is it called Otter Lake?”

“I suppose it’s because otters make their home all around this lake. Do you know what an otter looks like, Emma?”

“Yes. I saw one in a book at the library, but I want to see one now, Grandpa. Can you get one to come over to the boat?”

“Well now, Em, I can’t say that I can, but, I tell you what, if you stay real still while I fish, we just might see one.”

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