Category: Fiction
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Thank You, Tennessee
The advent of cellular technology is responsible for most road rage on today’s highways. As someone who regularly travels the highways and streets of my local Missouri community, I am pleasantly surprised when I see folks obeying the most common, most basic traffic laws, including knowing whose turn it is at four-way stops and roundabouts,…
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Let Me Tell Your Story
There’s something magical about telling a story. The teller directs the narrative, moving the action one word at a time. Pacing is all about choosing the right words in the correct order. Almost like removing one block at a time from a Jenga tower – you have to be careful; otherwise, the whole thing, like…
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Commotion in Kansas – Part II
“She’s a sweet girl.” Crystal winked at Sharon. “Now, how late were you up that night, anyway?” Even with Sharon’s blackout curtains up, red and blue flashes lit up her darkened bedroom. No noise other than the hum of the engines of two police cars, one sitting near Sharon’s house, the other parked further down…
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Commotion in Kansas
“Red and blue lights, bright as daylight, shot through the curtains. It was bad enough that it was as late as it was. I never thought I’d get to sleep!” Sharon sipped her café latte with the tiniest pink stuff sprinkled on top. The café was nice enough. A little quiet for southern California, but…
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The Sanderson Law Firm
“No, that’s normal.” Glancing through the folder on her desk and quickly scanning her computer, she trusted the file. “Especially in these cases.” A porcelain mug filled to the rim with cold coffee sat next to the computer, the closest thing she had to drink. “Mhmm,” she said into the phone, gulping down the cold…
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Patterson’s Letters
“Woah, Lance, dude! Stop! Come back!” Jay’s shorts were still wet from the Pacific Ocean, sand on his feet from running to the bungalow. Lance was the mail carrier, bringing him the latest surfing magazines, skate gear catalogs, and the occasional bill. His primary occupation was web design, which afforded him more than a few…
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Brookhurst H.O.A.: Brock Myers
Waves rolled up the shoreline, crashing against the massive rocks, dragging lighter ones back into the deeper water. The Pacific Ocean smells of sand, salt, and fish oil hung heavy in the morning air. Lacing up his shoes, checking his watch, and sliding his sunglasses up his nose, he started to run. The sunshine and…
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October 17th: Brookhurst H.O.A.
A Nike untied and strewn across the floor, the other shoe nowhere to be seen, until he tripped over it, kicking it clear across the other side of the living room in the dark. Frightening the dog, he rubbed his big toe, heart beating in his foot. A part of him wanted to scream out…
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Communication = Love
“Ugh! My freaking bank, Marcus! Sheesh. Why can’t they get things fixed?” “What is it now?” Marcus asked, glancing over the top of his laptop screen. Marcus was a screenwriter for Netflix, trying to develop a script for a pilot television show. The cursor was angrily blinking at him, not that it mattered much. He…
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Jerry’s Used Car Lot
“All you need is a few more dollars, and I will put you in that car myself.” His smile showed off his dingy, yellowing teeth. Jerry Brooks chewed on the end of his cheap cigar, the ones he bought from Plaid Pantry a few doors down from the dealership. He looked like you would imagine…
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Carter Calls Bianchi
(Continuation of Bullets and Frozen Bananas) Heather Bianchi looked down from the 18th floor of 610 Newport Center, expecting a call from Alex Carter. Alex took his orders from Heather and Heather only. Sighing, Heather looked out to the Newport Harbor and the massive yachts. She knew her boss, Marco Rossi, wasn’t a patient man.…
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Bullets and Frozen Bananas
Have you ever smelled gunpowder, like the Fourth of July smell, hanging in the air, smoke still floating like a whispy ghost? Yeah, me neither. But all that changed literally five minutes ago. The wrong side of town, you might ask. Or maybe some criminal types were loitering outside a liquor store? Perhaps it was…
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Senior Skip Day
High school is where teenagers get to learn what life is like. You’ve got all the makings of a John Hughes movie. Every cliché. All the stereotypes. Kids who enjoy smoking marijuana. Bookworms, nerds, and geeks who love playing Dungeons and Dragons, video games, and reading about fantasy worlds, the likes of which J.R.R. Tolkien…
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“My truck’s gone.”
“What do you mean?” His tone was less than friendly, which was saying something. He chewed on the end of an unlit cigar. “You are telling me someone got away with your truck?” Snapping his fingers, “Just like that? Please, for the love of all that is holy, tell me you are kidding?” “Um, yeah.…
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The Fire at Shady Grove
Slower than molasses on a frosty morning, the residents proceeded to the cafeteria. The six of them, Genny, Travis, Frank, Mark, Tony, and Isabell, shuffled down the hallway, still rubbing sleep from their eyes. Travis and Tony wore athletic shorts, sandals with socks, and t-shirts. Tony had the Def Leppard shirt, and Travis wore one…
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Meeting Jules at the Beaverton Fair
Carnivals. Fairgrounds. Smells of cotton candy, that sticky, sweet, sugary smell mixed with fresh popcorn, caramel apples, hot dogs, funnel cakes, and the nearly burned smell of oil that all kinds of deep-fried food are dunked into. If you think those smells are bad, stick around for a few days. After a few days, the…
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Stop Being Judgmental!
Echoing through my head, the words, ‘Stop being judgemental!’ felt like a neon sign on the Las Vegas strip blinking violently at me. Being cut off in traffic, I let more than a few choice words leave my lips. As I’m writing this, I wonder, am I the judgemental one, in this instance? Am I…
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Beaverton: The Carnival Before the Rose Festival
Fresh-cut grass. Damp, lush fields of green. Sunlight peeking out from behind the cloud, melting like a pat of butter on a hot grill. Sunday morning, June 21st, 1991, a little after 10 a.m., is when a torrent of rain hit the small carnival in Beaverton, Oregon. Me and the girl I had just met…
