Tag: fiction
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The Pop Machine
1 Our school got new washrooms with automatic hand-dryers over the summer break. Us boys liked to aim them down our shirts and pants, feeling the warm air as our clothes bubbled and ballooned. It made for good times, so we told the girls. They claimed to have new hand-dryers, too. “How many…
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The Testament of Algorithms
It had been a long year – not a good year, but a long one. When it was finally over, when the last bottle of cheap wine was upturned in the ice bucket, when the last guest left, leaving a wreck of their small apartment, Glen and Glenda turned to each other. The question…
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Yellowjacket Kid
We went around the cabin and each kid had to say something about himself. Uttie, our counselor, talked about the camp and meals and bedtime and everything. He had to answer a lot of questions because, even though our parents had only just left, already a kid had got hurt in a really awful…
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The Chinese Lessons
People told me that my daughter was fluent in Chinese, but before we went to Beijing together I used to have to take their word for it. She had been in a Mandarin immersion program since she was three years old, but since I didn’t speak Mandarin myself, I had to be satisfied with the…
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A Ghost Wouldn’t Say That
One moonless Friday night in October, a man and a woman on a Harley came roaring up Illinois 440 with Spalding behind them and Colby City a few miles ahead. They passed the Christmas tree farm, they passed the hog market, they made the quick little S-curve without incident even though they’d never been on…
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Naked Vicar
Ruth, Epiphany (Sunday, 6th January) She looked contemptuously at the portrait she had just finished; Mr E. A. Adonis had been dismissive and rude when she had gone to his house to take preliminary photographs for the painting and had then made several attempts to pat her bottom, and the finished portrait clearly showed her…
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The Miracles of San Batista
One could argue that as a native Batistan my opinion of the events I am about to recount must necessarily be tainted by local prejudice and distorted by personal involvement. And, in a way, it would be true. But of one thing you can be sure of. I will tell you what happened as best…
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Going Home
Neither of them knew the time. Rita could feel the heat of the afternoon sun gliding across the back of her neck and figured it must be getting late. She adjusted her hold on the orange cat, and turned away from the porch, towards Sal. “I got him,” she called. Her lips parted into the…
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Waiting for the Woe
Sitting in this sparse gray room with nothing to look at besides posters of the digestive tract, no doubt provided by drug companies as perks for doctor’s offices, I await a verdict that will determine my future. I’ve done nothing to prepare for good news. Why should I? I’m not one these people who will…
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At World’s Edge
On the edge of the world, an old man had built his house. This house, of old brick, dark wood, and clay tiles of burnt orange, was naught more than a lean-to, though it served his purposes well. In fact, it could hardly be called a lean-to, as it had nothing upon which to lean.…
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Angel of the Battlefield
I’m decidedly old-fashioned, wearing an apron and a smile as I cross the road to greet the new neighbors. Between oven mitts, I hold a freshly-baked pie, the pan still hot. My hair is done up high and tied with a ribbon. It’s all going so well, my fifties fantasy, until, from the bowels of…
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Looking Glass Theory
It seemed like the right thing to do, to scan the alcohol first, since the girl was standing right there, at her station, barely six feet away. Beep. She came right over. “I.D.?” Ridiculous; but Bruce showed her without making the joke. “Cool…” she said. She tapped the date into the device hanging from…