Fiction

Behind the Barn with Carol Ann

Back in 1957, kissing Carol Ann behind the barn in the middle of a windswept field of Goldenrod with a sudden deer watching was something special, let me tell you. Back then, bobby sox and big barrettes and ponytails were everywhere.

Like many farmers, Carol Ann’s father had a console radio in the living room, and every Saturday night the family would gather ‘round with bowls of ice cream and listen to The Grand Ole Opry. It was beamed “all the way” from Nashville I was told more than once since I was from Chicago and sometimes wore a tie so how could I know.

The Monster

The young man toted his pencils and sketch books in a small leather case and situated himself in front of a brown and wilted copse of trees up the hill from St. Georges Church. He found an old stump about 100 meters away and sat facing the tall maroon steeples and lyard outer walls. Rivulets of green algae and mold needed cleaning. Or painting. But from his stump seat up the hill, in the soft northern light in Fischlham, it looked perfect. Beautiful.

The Lucky Goblin

Bradson glanced down the bar towards the tavern’s newest customer. He was a big man with a full head of red hair.The man was lost in his thoughts and had downed several mugs in a matter of minutes.Towards the end of the bar an obese goblin was voraciously eating an entire apple pie. The goblin sighed and looked at Bradson.

The Rioters Candle

Ebed had been in prison before. When his brother had been arrested for spraying revolutionary slogans on the wall of the interior ministry, he was picked up as well. It was Imam Jelal who had spoken for him that time. Unfortunately the Imam is no longer as powerful as he was. He has also been scooped up by the republican guard in this uprising the West has called the Arab Spring.

Tachyon Level Rising

Three hours until midnight on the day the Mayan Calendar ended. Two men stand in the middle of a laboratory filled with computers, particle generators and a powerful quantum laser. It will be a night of terror for one of them, the stronger man is towering over the scruffy redhead with the wispy chin whiskers.

Patsy Foley Was Roly-Poly in 1947

It may have been the devil himself who prompted the kids in my schoolyard back in 1947 to chant "Patsy Foley's roly-poly from eating too much ravioli."

A Delicate Grasp on Sanity

Richard felt a wave of relief wash over him when his 1982 Pontiac started. The engine reciprocated the many oil changes and tune-ups it had received over the years from its owner with yet another promise to take him from Point A to Point B. And in Richard’s case Point A was his cracked and weed-strewn driveway and Point B was his crappy job at Benther’s Dream Dollar Emporium.

The Adventures of Weylin: The Thief in the Night

“Weylin, do you remember your first mission?” the boy asked. “Of course I do, Janus. It was over two thousand years ago, when I was still young.” Weylin took a deep breath, “See, I had just turned fifty and I was chosen for a greater mission than I was ready. It was the only time in my life where I was rewarded for cowardice,” he paused for a moment and solemnly looked down. “I believe that is why I remember it so well. They could still be alive today if I had only stayed awake,” he shook his head. “In the end, I came through. I guess that is what matters. My point is, Janus, there will be a time when your strength fails you. When that happens, I want you to remember that being a coward or a hero is a choice; a choice that you may have to make sooner than you yet realize.”

A Distortion in Transmission

The most galling of Yuri Andropov’s problems throughout his life came from the fact that he was a re-incarnated woman. Of course, gender switching during transmigration is as common as dirt, but in Yuri’s case, his predecessor had long determined to remain in female form and had clung over lifetimes to this resolve.

A Day in a Life

The vibration of a big rig, the hard repetitive thud/smacks of the rubber hitting the uneven concrete separations on the interstate, pulsated through the earth to the stools and seats in the restaurant. It was enough to remind him of the softer click/clack sound steel wheels of rail cars rolling along had made before the tracks had been welded together.

The Journey to the Serpiente Sea

Minero was mining for gems on the edge of the cliff of Mount Piedra, which over-looked Lake Labina. He put his pickaxe down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. On his hip hung a pouch of precious gems. Minero removed the large ruby, from the shards of glistening stones, and examined it under the light of his kerosene lamp.

A Paradise Called Hell

A week ago, the sight of two seven foot tall fish-faced creatures, with black globular eyes, would have sent him into a state of catatonic terror. Much had changed since then. While he leaned back, feet in stirrups, a phosphorescent green light illuminated his chest. He smiled. This was the most enjoyable extraterrestrial physical exam he’d ever had; well the only one for that matter. Strange symbols appeared over the projection of his guts, probably a diagnostic conclusion. Four times a week at the gym, he knew they’d find nothing wrong.

I Did It For My Mom

I was searching for a job on craigslist and found a posting for a writing position with Hush magazine. Apparently, it was Vancouver’s best kept secret, but the mags finally out of the closet. I happen to be a budding writer with seven short stories published in the exposure market. Not that it’s easy to get them to publish my writing either.

The Circular Nature of Time

The Earth looked like a blue marble rotating in a kaleidoscope of green, red and white swirls. The time was 7:05 P.M PDT, 31 08 3008. The sun was setting in an iridescent white glow on the Earth. Francine zoomed in on a prairie in the eastern district of Vancouver Canada.

Free Fall

Alarms were going off all over the ship as Maxine shouted “Red alert. We’ve been boarded. Mr.Tellson, grab two masers and come with me. Set them on low stun.”

It's Almost Sunday Morning

In the summer of 1956, any Saturday at midnight, especially when the moon was out and the stars were bright, you would be able to see Grandma Groth sitting on her front-porch swing waiting for her son, Clarence, a bachelor at 53, to make it home from the Blind Man's Pub. He would have spent another evening quaffing steins of Heineken's.

The Veteran’s Day

It took Mitch Michaels over 30 years of marriages, almost 300 pounds of living residue from reckless eating, fire fights in the densest jungles of Vietnam and fist brawls in the alcoholic miasma of hellhole pubs, smashing invisible things with his bare hands, talking trash with one eye closed and hitting a couple jail-cell walls with his metal-plated forehead before he learned that the everyday pulling of the ocean surf could cool him off and make him feel peaceful.

When It Happens

One

I’m leaning on the banister next to my father’s accountant, watching the storm begin through a half-moon window. The street darkens out there. Wind slaps against the house. Behind us, sunlight splashes the back windows as rain hits the roof.

The Sun Singer

I watch the red dwarfs approach on the engineering stations’ single view-screen, attempting to remain steady despite my growing anxiety. My stomach is turning itself inside-out and my hands are shaking visibly. As head of engineering, refueling the Nova Drive always puts me on edge.

Kristofferson

He skinned the raccoon carefully, making sure to lose as little meat as possible, while keeping an eye out for infected spots. If he found one, even a single one, he would toss the carcass and check his other traps. It was better to play safe than take unnecessary risks. If the other traps were empty, he would eat the infected meat. But only if he had no other options.

	The Ash Virus
	The Tale of Bob
	Mission 197
	R. L. Vogeler’s “Reminiscence of an American Dream”
	New Sci-Fi Thriller 'SABER Ladder' by Cory Richardson

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