Category: short story saturday
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Or Whatever Robert Frost Said – Part 4
Drunk on a Monday night. The tv casted shadows that danced along the walls. Generic music filled the room with noise yet somehow it still wasn’t loud enough. My body sunk into the couch as I stared upward, pretending I could find the answers in the popcorn ceiling. There must…
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Or Whatever Robert Frost Said – Part 3
I’ve decided to keep posting only one part a week, sorry for the indecision, this whole thing is a learning process. If I have ideas for extra parts, I’ll try to post them on Tuesdays. Thanks for reading. — I’m not that good of a cook. In fact, it’s the…
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Or Whatever Robert Frost Said – Part 2
“Can I have one of those,” he repeated more slowly but somehow it wasn’t condescending. He motioned toward the cigarette I had forgotten existed. I found the cigarette pack from my back pocket and handed him one. He watched me expectantly as I lit it. He took a long drag…
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Or Whatever Robert Frost Meant – Part 1
When the sun sets and everything slows down, I have to seek solace from the quiet nights. A dramatic sting highlighted a new clue about a missing woman on the show I’ve been watching. Most nights are easier to get through because of my shift at Shakey’s, a well-known, yet…
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The Cure for Loneliness according to Edgar Bean
Hey all, I’m still working on the live story. I want to get some more details ironed out and have enough time to edit so those posts will begin next week. To hold you over, here’s a story I wrote years ago, maybe in college. — Y’know, my granddaddy used…
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Secrets Cabinets Keep
An ad for some ointment played on the tv, the only light in the room. He rubbed his grainy eyes, it offered no relief. His eyes felt as though they were being dragged down by anchors, but he kept them open. Truth is, he didn’t want to go to sleep.…
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Resolution
“We should go.” She looked up, her brow furrowed. The two were sitting in their living room barely illuminated by several candles. She sat on the floor across from him at the coffee table writing in one of her notebooks. She had one for everything. Gardening tips. Basic construction. Looking…
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The House with the Crooked Gate
Recently, I got a new job working downtown at River City Consignment, and every day I have to drive by the old Lakemont house. To a non-local, it’s an unassuming antebellum house in a row of unassuming antebellum houses, only distinguishable from the others by the dent in the gate…
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A Dead Man’s Bargain
Tommy struggled for air as the sharp fingers tightened around his neck. The more he fought to breathe, the deeper the pointed tips dug in. They felt like knife blades, the sensation tragically familiar, but this wasn’t a drunken fight outside a club after a night of annoying bikers. Warm…
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Color Therapy
Mint Green. Who the hell paints an office mint green? For eight hours five days a week, I answer calls, organize itineraries, and save from my boss from collapse with well-timed coffee deliveries while staring at this horrible paint scheme. I hate when I’m not busy. In fact, I love…